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The world ridicules a passion which it seldom feels its scenes, and its interests, distract the mind, deprave the taste, corrupt the heart, and love cannot exist in a heart that has lost the meek dignity of innocence.

Ann Radcliffe

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Ann Radcliffe
Age: 58 †
Born: 1764
Born: July 9
Died: 1823
Died: February 7
Author
Novelist
Writer
Ann Ward
Anne Radcliffe
Anne Ward
Ann Ward Radcliffe
Ann Ward
Mrs. Radcliffe
Ann Radcliffe
née Ward
Lost
Innocence
Cannot
Interests
Ridicules
Feels
Dignity
Distract
Heart
Exist
Meek
Mind
Scene
Ridicule
Love
Taste
Corrupt
World
Passion
Scenes
Interest
Seldom

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There is something in the ardour and ingenousness of youth, which is particularly pleasing to the contemplation of an old man, if his feelings have not been entirely corroded by the world.
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Wisdom can boast no higher attainment than happiness.
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Such is the inconsistency of real love, that it is always awake to suspicion, however unreasonable always requiring new assurances from the object of its interest.
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There is no accounting for tastes.
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Happiness arises in a state of peace, not of tumult.
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But St. Aubert had too much good sense to prefer a charm to a virtue.
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Poverty cannot deprive us of many consolations. It cannot rob us of the affection we have for each other, or degrade us in our own opinion, of in that of any person, whose opinion we ought to value.
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How despicable is that humanity, which can be contented to pity, where it might assuage!
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There is some comfort in dying surrounded by one's children.
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Employment is the surest antidote to sorrow.
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At first a small line of inconceivable splendour emerged on the horizon, which, quickly expanding, the sun appeared in all of his glory, unveiling the whole face of nature, vivifying every colour of the landscape, and sprinkling the dewy earth with glittering light.
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He loved the soothing hour, when the last tints of light die away when the stars, one by one, tremble through æther, and are reflected on the dark mirror of the waters that hour, which, of all others, inspires the mind with pensive tenderness, and often elevates it to sublime contemplation.
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It is dismal coming home, when there is nobody to welcome one!
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If the weak hand, that has recorded this tale, has, by its scenes, beguiled the mourner of one hour of sorrow, or, by its moral, taught him to sustain it - the effort, however humble, has not been vain, nor is the writer unrewarded.
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What has a man's face to do with his character? Can a man of good character help having a disagreeable face?
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There is some magic in wealth, which can thus make persons pay their court to it, when it does not even benefit themselves.
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Do you believe your heart to be, indeed, so hardened, that you can look without emotion on the suffering, to which you would condemn me?
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To discover depravity in those whom we have loved, is one of the most exquisite tortures to a virtuous mind, and the conviction is often rejected before it is finally admitted.
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But no matter for that, you can be tolerably happy, perhaps, notwithstanding but as for guessing how happy I am, or knowing anything about the matter,--- O! its quite beyond what you can understand.
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When the mind has once begun to yield to the weakness of superstition, trifles impress it with the force of conviction.
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