There is something more awful in happiness than in sorrow--the latter being earthly and finite, the former composed of the substance and texture of eternity, so that spirits still embodied may well tremble at it.

What, in the name of common-sense, had I to do with any better society than I had always lived in?

Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them.

Come, therefore, and let us fling mud at them!

Love, whether newly born, or aroused from a deathlike slumber, must always create sunshine, filling the heart so full of radiance, this it overflows upon the outward world.

Keep the imagination sane--that is one of the truest conditions of communion with heaven.

She could no longer borrow from the future to ease her present grief.