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

I am malicious because I am miserable

Ah! it is well for the unfortunate to be resigned, but for the guilty there is no peace.

The modern masters promise very little

But I am a blasted tree; the bolt has entered my soul; and I felt then that I should survive to exhibit what I shall soon cease to be - a miserable spectacle of wrecked humanity, pitiable to others and intolerable to myself.

She was no longer that happy creature who in earlier youth wandered with me on the banks of the lake and talked with ecstasy of our future prospects. The first of those sorrows which are sent to wean us from the earth had visited her, and its dimming influence quenched her dearest smiles.

There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand.