If such lovely creatures were miserable, it was less strange that I, an imperfect and solitary being. should be wretched. - Mary Wollstonecraft

Devil, do you dare approach me? and do you not fear the fierce vengeance of my arm wreaked on your miserable head?

A modest man is steady, an humble man timid, and a vain one presumptuous.

Why did I not die? More miserable than man ever was before, why did I not sink into forgetfulness and rest? Death snatches away many blooming children, the only hopes of their doting parents: how many brides and youthful lovers have been one day in the bloom of health and hope, and the next a prey for worms and the decay of the tomb! Of what materials was I made, that I could thus resist so many shocks, which, like the turning of the wheel, continually renewed the torture?
But I was doomed to live;