Nature revives again; but a soul once slain lives no more.

The hedge that has been apparently dead, is not so; it will burst into leaf and blossom at the appointed time; but no such time is appointed for the stake that stands in it.

It is as dead as it seems, and will prove itself no dissembler.

The latter end of next month will complete a period of eleven years in which I have spoken no other language.

It is a long time for a man whose eyes were once opened, to spend in darkness; long enough to make despair an inveterate habit; and such it is in me.