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Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does the beauties of nature.
Life and death appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour a torrent of light into our dark world.
When you read their writings, life appears to consist in a warm sun and garden of roses, in the smiles and frowns of a fair enemy, and the fire that consumes your own heart.
my companion, my more than sister.
Live, and be happy, and make others so.”
Wandering spirits, if indeed ye wander, and do not rest in your narrow beds, allow me this faint happiness, or take me, as your companion, away from the joys of life.”
“But where were my friends and relations? No father had watched my infant days, no mother had blessed me with smiles and caresses; or if they had, all my past life was now a blot, a blind vacancy in which I distinguished nothing. From my earliest remembrance I had been as I then was in height and proportion. I had never yet seen a being resembling me, or who claimed any intercourse with me. What was I? The question again recurred, to be answered only with groans.
Heavy misfortunes have befallen us; but let us only cling closer to what remains, and transfer our love for those whom we have lost to those who yet live.
What can I say that will enable you to understand the depth of my sorrow?
You throw a torch into a pile of buildings; and when they are consumed you sit among the ruins, and lament the fall.
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