Children Are Made Of Eyes And Ears,

The Death I Should Prefer Would Be To Break My Neck Off The Back Of A Good Horse At A Full Gallop On A Fine Day.

An Actor's Life Is The Shadow Of A Cloud, The Echo Of A Sound, The Memory Of A Dream, Nothing Come Of Nothing. The Finest Actor Does Not Create, He Is But A Translator Of Another Man's Work.

The Large And Rapid Fortunes By Which Vulgar And Ignorant People Become Possessed Of Splendid Houses, Splendidly Furnished, Do Not Of Course, Give Them The Feelings And Manners Of Gentle Folks.

Though The Negroes Are Fed, Clothed, And Housed, And Though The Irish Peasant Is Starved, Naked, And Roofless, The Bare Name Of Freemen-the Lordship Over His Own Person, The Power To Choose And Will-are Blessings Beyond Food, Raiment, Or Shelter; Possessing Which, The Want Of Every Comfort Of Life Is Yet More Tolerable Than Their Fullest Enjoyment Without Them.

[on Disagreeing With Her Husband About His Slave-holding:] I Cannot Give My Conscience Into The Keeping Of Another Human Being Or Submit The Actions Dictated By My Conscience To Their Will.