The different accidents of life are not so changeable as the feelings of human nature.

Even the eternal skies weep, I thought; is there any shame then, that mortal man should spend himself in tears?

It is with considerable difficulty that I remember the original era of my being

Teach him to think for himself? Oh, my God, teach him rather to think like other people!

I, a miserable wretch, haunted by a curse that shut up every avenue to enjoyment.

What is there so fearful as the expectation of evil tidings delayed? ... Misery is a more welcome visitant when she comes in her darkest guise and wraps us in perpetual black, for then the heart no longer sickens with disappointed hope.

Solitude was my only consolation - deep, dark, deathlike solitude.