love, which is a madness, and a scourge, and a fever, and a delusion, and a snare, is also a mystery, and very imperfectly understood by everyone except the individual sufferer who writhes under its tortures. — Mary Elizabeth Braddon Copy Share Image
love is so very subtle an essence, such an indefinable metaphysical marvel, that its due force, though very cruelly felt by the sufferer himself, is never clearly understood by those who look on at its torments and wonder why he… — Mary Elizabeth Braddon Copy Share Image
Life is such a very troublesome matter, when all is said and done, that it's as well even to take its blessings quietly. — Mary Elizabeth Braddon Copy Share Image
“And thus they form a perfect group; he walks back two or three paces, selects his point of sight, and begins to sketch a… — Mary Elizabeth Braddon Copy Share Image
“He was a square, pale-faced man of almost forty, and had the appearance of having outlived every emotion to which humanity is subject.” — Mary Elizabeth Braddon Copy Share Image
My intellect is a little way upon the wrong side of that narrow boundary-line between sanity and insanity. — Mary Elizabeth Braddon Copy Share Image
A priest can achieve great victories with an army of women at his command. — Mary Elizabeth Braddon Copy Share Image
A modern writer likens coquettes to those hunters who do not eat the game which they have successfully pursued. — Mary Elizabeth Braddon Copy Share Image
“You seem to have quite a taste for discussing these horrible subjects," she said, rather scornfully; "you ought to have been a detective police… — Mary Elizabeth Braddon Copy Share Image
Exceptional talent does not always win its reward unless favored by exceptional circumstances. — Mary Elizabeth Braddon Copy Share Image
Why, I can't help smiling at people, and speaking prettily to them. I know I'm no better than the rest of the world; but… — Mary Elizabeth Braddon Copy Share Image
“He forgot that love, which is a madness, and a scourge, and a fever, and a delusion, and a snare, is also a mystery,… — Mary Elizabeth Braddon Copy Share Image
Why is it so difficult to love wisely, so easy to love too well? — Mary Elizabeth Braddon Copy Share Image
