The fountain of my heart dried up within me,-- Charles Robert Maturin More Quotes by Charles Robert Maturin More Quotes From Charles Robert Maturin There is no error more absurd, and yet more rooted in the heart of man, than the belief that his sufferings will promote his spiritual safety. Charles Robert Maturin spiritual heart men Beauty hath no lustre save when it gleameth through the crystal web that purity's fine fingers weave for it. Charles Robert Maturin crystals purity beauty My own lov'd light, Charles Robert Maturin light moon heart It is actually possible to become amateurs in suffering. Charles Robert Maturin suffering A malady Charles Robert Maturin meds prey heart A time will come, and soon, when, from mere habit, you will echo the scream of every delirious wretch that harbors near you; then you will pause, clasp your hands on your throbbing head, and listen with horrible anxiety whether the scream proceeded from you or them. Charles Robert Maturin echoes depression hands They waste life in what are called good resolutions-partial efforts at reformation, feebly commenced, heartlessly conducted, and hopelessly concluded. Charles Robert Maturin waste effort life The soul shares not the body's test. Charles Robert Maturin body soul sleep The limner's art may trace the absent feature, Charles Robert Maturin dream sweet art Yes, I laugh at all mankind, and the imposition that they dare to practice when they talk of hearts. I laugh at human passions and human cares, vice and virtue, religion and impiety; they are all the result of petty localities, and artificial situation. One physical want, one severe and abrupt lesson from the colorless and shriveled lip of necessity, is worth all the logic of the empty wretches who have presumed to prate it, from Zeno down to Burgersdicius. It silences in a second all the feeble sophistry of conventional life, and ascetical passion. Charles Robert Maturin passion practice heart Tis well to be merry and wise, Charles Robert Maturin honest wise love Nor cell, nor chain, nor dungeon speaks to the murderer like the voice of solitude. Charles Robert Maturin voice cells solitude O wretched is the dame, to whom the sound, Charles Robert Maturin dames wife sound
