"Blasted as I was, I could not bear to look on the face of man."

"I need not describe the feelings of those whose dearest ties are rent by that most irreparable evil, the void that presents itself to the soul, and the despair that is exhibited on the countenance."

"What is the world, except that which we feel? Love, and hope, and delight, or sorrow and tears; these are our lives, our realities, to which we give the names of power, possession, misfortune, and dea…"

"Thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by slight ligaments are we bound to prosperity and ruin."

"When falsehood can look so like the truth, who can assure themselves of certain happiness?"