“The sorrow that lay cold in her mother's heart... converted it into a tomb.”
“She did not want to talk of her sorrow, but with that sorrow in her heart she could not talk of outside matters.”
“And so, all the night-tide, I lay down the side, of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride, in the sepulchre there by the sea, in her tomb by the surrounding sea.”
“The mother who lay in the grave, was the mother of my infancy; the little creature in her arms, was myself, as I had once been, hushed for ever on her bosom.”
“Her own misery filled her heart—there was no room in it for other people's sorrow.”
“Every heart has its secret sorrows which the world knows not, and oftentimes we call a man cold, when he is only sad.”