I never could remember her tone in speaking any word; it was too perfect; you had received the thought quite direct.

Yet, had I never heard her speak a word, my mind would, be filled by her attitudes.

Nothing more graceful can be conceived, nor could the genius of sculpture surpass her management of the antique drapery.
She has no beauty except in the intellectual severity of her outline, and bears marks of age which will grow stronger every year, and make her ugly before long.

Still it will be a _grandiose_, gypsy, or rather Sibylline ugliness, well adapted to the expression of some tragic parts.

Only it seems as if she could not live long; she expends force enough upon a part to furnish out a dozen common lives.
Though the French tragedy is well acted throughout, yet unhappily there is no male actor now with a spark of fire, and these men seem the meanest pigmies by the side of Rachel;--so on the scene, beside the tragedy intended by the author, you see also that common tragedy, a woman of genius who throws away her precious heart, lives and dies for one unworthy of her.