He Might As Well Plant An Oak

I Have No Pity! I Have No Pity! The More Worms Writhe, The More I Yearn To Crush Out Their Entrails! It Is A Moral Teething, And I Grind With Greater Energy, In Proportion To The Increase Of Pain.

He... Was Attached By Ties Stronger Than Reason Could Break -- Chains, Forged By Habit, Which It Would Be Cruel To Attempt To Loosen.

Proud People Breed Sad Sorrows For Themselves. But If You Be Afraid Of Your Touchiness, You Must Ask Pardon, Mind, When She Comes In.

The Old Church Tower And Garden Wall Are Black With Autumn Rain And Dreary Winds Foreboding Call The Darkness Down Again

I Despise Him For Himself, And Hate Him For The Memories He Revives!