The very winds whispered in soothing accents, and maternal Nature bade me weep no more.
I am very averse to bringing myself forward in print, but as my account will only appear as an appendage to a former production, and as it will be confined to such topics as have connection with my authorship alone, I can hardly accuse myself of a personal intrusion.
Invention, it must be humbly admitted, does not consist in creating out of void, but out of chaos.
The agony of my feelings allowed me no respite; no incident occurred from which my rage and misery could not extract its food.
My dreams were all my own; I accounted for them to nobody; they were my refuge when annoyed - my dearest pleasure when free.
Life and death appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour a torrent of light into our dark world.
And now, once again, I bid my hideous progeny go forth and prosper. I have an affection for it, for it was the offspring of happy days, when death and grief were but words, which found no true echo in my heart.
But I am a blasted tree; the bolt has entered my soul; and I felt then that I should survive to exhibit what I shall soon cease to be - a miserable spectacle of wrecked humanity, pitiable to others and intolerable to myself.
A slavish bondage to parents cramps every faculty of the mind.
Life is obstinate and clings closest where it is most hated.
A king is always a king - and a woman always a woman: his authority and her sex ever stand between them and rational converse.
Elegance is inferior to virtue.
What terrified me will terrify others; and I need only describe the spectre which had haunted my midnight pillow.
My dreams were at once more fantastic and agreeable than my writings.
