A Woman's Fame Is The Tomb Of

Social Life Is Filled With Doubts And Vain Aspirings; Solitude, When The Imagination Is Dethroned, Is Turned To Weariness And Ennui.

My Tears Are Buried In My Heart, Like Cave-locked Fountains Sleeping.

One Of The Greatest Of All Mental Pleasures Is To Have Our Thoughts Often Divined: Ever Entered Into With Sympathy.

Consistency Is A Human Word, But It Certainly Expresses Nothing Human.

A Preface Is A Species Of Literary Luxury, Where An Author, Like A Lover, Is Privileged To Be Egotistical.