Vice is ever most dangerous when lurking behind the Mask of Virtue.
With what delight did Ambrosio listen to the declaration of her artless gratitude! The natural grace of her manners, the unequalled sweetness of her voice, her modest vivacity, her unstudied elegance,...
Even at this moment I lament his loss, though ’tis to him that I owe all the miseries of my existence.
You have charms, Segnora, which might captivate the most insensible; No heart unoccupied could resist them. Happy is it for me that mine is no longer in my possession; or I should have to reproach mys...
You too shall know, what it is to love without hope!
Away with friendship! 'tis a cold unfeeling word. My bosom burns with love, with unutterable love, and love must be its return.
Weep, Daughter, weep, and moisten your bread with your tears: God knows that you have ample cause for sorrow!
When I said I should die in your service with pleasure, I intended to live in it many long years; since, to tell you the truth, from a child I had always a particular dislike to dying, and I think tha...
Man was born for society. However little He may be attached to the World, He never can wholly forget it, or bear to be wholly forgotten by it.
You are the destroyer of my Soul; You are my Murderer, and on you fall the curse of my death and my unborn Infant’s! Insolent in your yet-unshaken virtue, you disdained the prayers of a Penitent; But
Oh! When my heart first loved you, how little did it suspect you of making it feel such pangs! Agnes.
That destruction o’er you hovers; Lustful Man and crafty Devil Will combine to work your evil; And from earth by sorrows driven, Soon your Soul must speed to heaven.
An Author, whether good or bad, or between both, is an Animal whom everybody is privileged to attack; For though All are not able to write books, all conceive themselves able to judge them.
Vice is ever most dangerous when lurking behind the Mask of Virtue. He
Ambrosio, learn to know me better. I love you for your virtues: Lose them, and with them you lose my affections. I look upon you as a Saint; Prove to me that you are no more than Man, and I quit you w...
They had felt the sharpest darts in misfortune's quiver; Those which remained appeared blunt in comparison.
Tell me that you will conceal my story, that I shall remain your Friend and your Companion, or this poignard drinks my blood!
I concealed those features from your sight, which you loved unconsciously. I
His hatred of society, his profound melancholy, his rigid observation of the duties of his order, and his voluntary seclusion from the world at his age so unusual, attracted the notice of the whole fr...
He had long observed with disapprobation and contempt the superstition which governed Madrid's inhabitants. His good sense had pointed out to him the artifices of the monks, and the gross absurdity of...
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