Sorrow only increased with knowledge.

It would be an endless task to trace the variety of meannesses, cares, and sorrows into which women are plunged by the prevailing opinion that they were created rather to feel than reason.

My education was neglected, yet I was passionately fond of reading.

Sorrow only increased with knowledge.

The labours of men of genius, however erroneously directed, scarcely ever fail in ultimately turning to the solid advantage of mankind.

Life and death appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour a torrent of light into our dark world.

I am alone and miserable. Only someone as ugly as I am could love me.