I Am Not At All In A

He Is A Gentleman; I Am A Gentleman's Daughter; So Far We Are Equal.

It Is A Difference Of Opinion Which Does Not Admit Of Proof. We Each Begin Probably With A Little Bias Towards Our Own Sex, And Upon That Bias Build Every Circumstance In Favour Of It Which Has Occurred Within Our Own Circle.

He Could Not Forgive Her, But He Could Not Be Unfeeling. Though Condemning Her For The Past, And Considering It With High And Unjust Resentment, Though Perfectly Careless Of Her, And Though Becoming Attached To Another, Still He Could Not See Her Suffer, Without The Desire Of Giving Her Relief. It Was A Remainder Of Former Sentiment; It Was An Impulse Of Pure, Though Unacknowledged Friendship; It Was A Proof Of His Own Warm And Amiable Heart.

I Always Deserve The Best Treatment Because I Never Put Up With Any Other.

But Are They All Horrid, Are You Sure They Are All Horrid? [referring To Gothic Novels, Fashionable In England At The Beginning Of The 19th Century, But Frowned Upon In Polite Society.]