Life Is Obstinate And Clings Closest Where

What Is There So Fearful As The Expectation Of Evil Tidings Delayed? ... Misery Is A More Welcome Visitant When She Comes In Her Darkest Guise And Wraps Us In Perpetual Black, For Then The Heart No Longer Sickens With Disappointed Hope.

It Would Be An Endless Task To Trace The Variety Of Meannesses, Cares, And Sorrows Into Which Women Are Plunged By The Prevailing Opinion That They Were Created Rather To Feel Than Reason.

The Fallen Angel Becomes A Malignant Devil. Yet Even That Enemy Of God And Man Had Friends And Associates In His Desolation; I Am Alone.

Polluted By Crimes, And Torn By The Bitterest Remorse, Where Can I Find Rest But In Death?

I Required Kindness And Sympathy, But I Did Not Believe Myself Utterly Unworthy Of It.