Another Stupid Party . . . With

Happiness In Marriage Is Entirely A Matter Of Chance. If The Dispositions Of The Parties Are Ever So Well Known To Each Other Or Ever So Similar Beforehand, It Does Not Advance Their Felicity In The Least. They Always Continue To Grow Sufficiently Unlike Afterwards To Have Their Share Of Vexation; And It Is Better To Know As Little As Possible Of The Defects Of The Person With Whom You Are To Pass Your Life.

Oh! Write, Write. Finish It At Once. Let There Be An End Of This Suspense. Fix, Commit, Condemn Yourself.

The Family Of Dashwood Had Long Been Settled In Sussex. Their Estate Was Large, And Their Residence Was At Norland Park, In The Centre Of Their Property, Where, For Many Generations, They Had Lived In So Respectable A Manner As To Engage The General Good Opinion Of Their Surrounding Acquaintance. The Late Owner Of This Estate Was A Single Man, Who Lived To A Very Advanced Age, And Who For Many Years Of His Life, Had A Constant Companion And Housekeeper In His Sister.

The Publicis Rather Apt To Be Unreasonably Discontented When A Woman Does Marry Again, Than When She Does Not.

There Was No Being Displeased With Such An Encourager, For His Admiration Made Him Discern A Likeness Before It Was Possible.