There is no running away from a great grief.

Autumn glows upon us like a splendid evening; it is the very sunset of the year.

... they know little of the passions who seek to argue with that most intractable of them all, the fear that is born of love.

Fashion is a capricious deity.

I do not think very highly of Madame D'Arblay's books. The style is so strutting. She does so stalk about on Dr. Johnson's old stilts.

Our English people are much addicted to raising idols, and then revenging themselves on their own idolatry by knocking down and demolishing the poor bits of wood and stone that they had worshipped as gods. How many literary reputations have been so treated!

[On Elizabeth Barrett Browning:] ... for finish, and melody of versification, there is nothing approaching to Miss Barrett in this day, or in any other - also for diction. Her words paint.