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The very winds whispered in soothing accents, and maternal Nature bade me weep no more.

It is not pity that you feel; you lament only because the victim of your malignity is withdrawn from your power.

Elizabeth also wept, and was unhappy; but her's also was the misery of innocence, which, like a cloud that passes over the fair moon, for a while hides, but cannot tarnish its brightness.

Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature, to whom thou art bound by ties only dissoluble by the annhilation of one of us.

What a glorious creature must he have been in the day of his prosperity, when he is thus noble and godlike in ruin.

This advice, although good, was totally inapplicable to my case.

When happy, inanimate nature had the power of bestowing on me the most delightful sensations.

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

I became the victim of ingratitude and cold coquetry—then I desponded, and imagined that my discontent gave me a right to hate the world. I

Here then I retreated, and lay down happy to have found a shelter, however miserable, from the inclemency of the season, and still more from the barbarity of man.

panegyric upon modern chemistry, the terms of which I shall never

Why does man boast of sensibilities superior to those apparent in the brute; it only renders them more necessary beings.

The only thing I could distinguish was the bright moon, and I fixed my eyes on that with pleasure.

will revenge my injuries; if I cannot inspire love, I will cause fear, and chiefly towards you my arch-enemy, because my creator, do I swear

And I call on you, spirits of the dead, and on you, wandering ministers of vengeance, to aid and conduct me in my work. Let

Natural philosophy is the genius that has regulated my fate.

Every time your work is read, you die several deaths for every word, and poetry is like being flayed alive.

Merde, alors,' said the parrot, muffled.

The agonies of remorse poison the luxury there is otherwise sometimes found in indulging the excess of grief.

You are in the wrong," replied the fiend; "and, instead of threatening, I am content to reason with you.

do not waste your time upon this; it is sad trash.

my heart glow with an enthusiasm which elevates me to heaven, for nothing contributes so much to tranquillize the mind as a steady purpose—a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye.

my present sensations strongly intimated that the fiend would follow me, and exempt my family from the danger of his machinations.

The tranquillity which I now enjoyed did not endure. Memory brought madness with it; and