Silence Is Of Different Kinds, And Breathes

My Rest Might Have Been Blissful Enough, Only A Sad Heart Broke It.

I Can Live Alone, If Self-respect, And Circumstances Require Me So To Do. I Need Not Sell My Soul To Buy Bliss. I Have An Inward Treasure Born With Me, Which Can Keep Me Alive If All Extraneous Delights Should Be Withheld, Or Offered Only At A Price I Cannot Afford To Give.

For Those Who Are Not Hungry, It Is Easy To Palaver About The Degradation Of Charity.

Daydreams Are The Delusions Of The Devil.

I Wished Critics Would Judge Me As An Author, Not As A Woman.