Life is obstinate and clings closest where it is most hated.

My dreams were all my own; I accounted for them to nobody; they were my refuge when annoyed - my dearest pleasure when free.

Ennui, the demon, waited at the threshold of his noiseless refuge, and drove away the stirring hopes and enlivening expectations, which form the better part of life.

the sentiment of immediate loss in some sort decayed, while that of utter, irremediable loneliness grew on me with time.

The fallen angel becomes a malignant devil.

I could not understand why men who knew all about good and evil could hate and kill each other.

With how many things are we on the brink of becoming acquainted, if cowardice or carelessness did not restrain our inquiries.