I shall live to improve myself, to take care of my child and to render myself worthy to join him. Soon my weary pilgrimage will begin. |
I thought and pondered - vainly. I felt that blank incapability of invention which is the greatest misery of authorship, when dull Nothing replies to our anxious invocations. |
If the abstract rights of man will bear discussion and explanation, those of women, by a parity of reasoning, will not shrink from the same test: though a different opinion prevails in this country. |
If the study to which you apply yourself has a tendency to weaken your affections, and to destroy your taste for those simple pleasures in which no alloy can possibly mix, then that study is not befitting the human mind. |
Invention, it must be humbly admitted, does not consist of creating out of void, but out of chaos |
Invention, it must be humbly admitted, does not consist of creating out of void, but out of chaos |
It is a farce to call any being virtuous whose virtues do not result from the exercise of it's own reason |
It is a farce to call any being virtuous whose virtues do not result from the exercise of it's own reason |
It is hardly surprising that women concentrate on the way they look instead of what was in their minds since not much has been put in their minds to begin with |
It is hardly surprising that women concentrate on the way they look instead of what was in their minds since not much has been put in their minds to begin with |
It is justice, not charity, that is wanting in the world. |
It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open . . . |
It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils. With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I collected the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet. It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs. |
Life and death appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour a torrent of light into our dark world. |
Life is obstinate and clings closest where it is most hated. |