“Terror made me cruel.”

How strange! I thought, though everybody hated and despised each other, they could not avoid loving me.

Vain are the thousand creeds That move men’s hearts, unutterably vain; Worthless as withered weeds, Or idlest froth amid the boundless main.

If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.

The winter wind is loud and wild, Come close to me, my darling child; Forsake thy books, and mate less play; And, while the night is gathering grey, We’ll talk its pensive hours away.

I never told my love vocally still.

You’re hard to please: so many friends and so few cares, and can’t make yourself content.

It is for God to punish wicked people; we should learn to forgive.

I’ll be as dirty as I please, and I like to be dirty, and I will be dirty!

What kind of living will it be when you – Oh, God! Would you like to live with your soul in the grave?

Though earth and man were gone, And suns and universes ceased to be, And Thou wert left alone, Every existence would exist in Thee.

I have fled my country and gone to the heather.

I have dreamed in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind.

I will walk where my own nature would be leading.

How cruel, your veins are full of ice-water and mine are boiling.

You must forgive me, for I struggled only for you.

It is hard to forgive, and to look at those eyes, and feel those wasted hands,’ he answered. ‘Kiss me again; and don’t let me see your eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer—but yours! How can I?