My dreams were at once more fantastic and agreeable than my writings.

Oh! Stars and clouds and winds, ye are all about to mock me; if ye really pity me, crush sensation and memory; let me become as nought; but if not, depart, depart, and leave me in darkness.

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

What are we, the inhabitants of this globe, least among the many that people infinite space? Our minds embrace infinity; the visible mechanism of our being is subject to merest accident.

The fallen angel becomes a malignant devil.

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 malicious because I am miserable