Wherever there is a heart and an intellect, the diseases of the physical frame are tinged with the peculiarities of these.

But I- know not what to say- the disease is what I seem to know, yet know it not.

wandered without a clew in the dark labyrinth of mind.

It seemed to be his wish and purpose to mask this expression with a smile; but the latter played him false, and flickered over his visage so derisively, that the spectator could see his blackness all the better for it.

What see you in my face, that you look at it so earnestly?

-Something that would make me weep, if there were any tears bitter enough for it.

I was in the autumn of my days.

But all my life had been made up of earnest, studious, thoughtful, quiet years, bestowed faithfully for the increase of mine own knowledge.

Since that moment, it has all been a dark necessity.

No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself, and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true.

I am not the man for whom you take me!

Philosophically considered, therefore, the two passions seem essentially the same, except that one happens to be seen in a celestial radiance, and the other in a dusky and lurid glow.

Mournful lesson, that, in the view of Infinite Purity, we are sinners all alike. It was to teach them, that the holiest among us has but attained so far above his fellows as to discern more clearly the Mercy which looks down, and repudiate more utterly the phantom of human merit, which would look aspiringly upward.

Be true! Be true! Be true! Show freely to the world, if not your worst, yet some trait whereby the worst may be inferred!

"On a field, sable, the letter A. Gules"

Another Friday, another book