I lived to write, and wrote to live.
Then never less alone than when alone.
Vast and deep the mountain shadows grew.
Paris strikes the vulgar part of us infinitely the most, but to a thinking mind London is incomparably the most delightful subject for contemplation.
It doesn't much signify whom one marries, for one is sure to find next morning that it was someone else.
Go! you may call it madness, folly; You shall not chase my gloom away! There 's such a charm in melancholy I would not if I could be gay.