No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true.
In our nature, however, there is a provision, alike marvellous and merciful, that the sufferer should never know the intensity of what he endures by its present torture, but chiefly by the pang that rankles after it.
She had not known the weight until she felt the freedom!
It is to the credit of human nature that, except where its selfishness is brought into play, it loves more readily than it hates.
But she named the infant Pearl, as being of great price--purchased with all she had--her mother's only treasure!
Before this ugly edifice, and between it and the wheel-track of the street, was a grass-plot, much overgrown with burdock, pig-weed, apple-pern, and such unsightly vegetation, which evidently found something congenial in the soil that had so early borne the black flower of civilised society, a prison.
My heart was a habitation large enough for many guests, but lonely and chill, and without a household fire. I longed to kindle one! It seemed not so wild a dream . . .
Let men tremble to win the hand of woman, unless they win along with it the utmost passion of her heart!
For, what other dungeon is so dark as one's own heart! What jailer so inexorable as one's self!
Shall we never, never get rid of this Past? cried he, keeping up the earnest tone of his preceding conversation. It lies upon the Present like a giant's dead body.