The officer wrote until he had finished, read over to himself what he had written, sanded it, and handed it to Defarge, with the words In secret.

The strange legend that you will find inscribed by your remote ancestress upon the potsherd was communicated to me by my father on his deathbed, and took a strong hold in my imagination.

I was perturbed by the suspicion that the anguish of love contemned was alloyed in her broken heart with the pangs, sordid to my young mind, of wounded vanity.

[…] some desiring to please their tyrannous Princes, put up their statues, and at distance by a phantastical presence flattered them with honours. And in process of time, these were made Gods; and the incommunicable name was given to wood and stones. Not that the Heathens thought that image to be very God, but that they were imaginarily present in them, and so had their Name.