I Cannot Sleep - Great Joy Is

... It's Vastly More Irksome To Give Up One's Own Way, Than To Hear A Few Impertinent Remarks.

There's No Nation Under The Sun Can Beat The English For Ill-politeness: For My Part, I Hate The Very Sight Of Them; And So I Shall Only Just Visit A Person Of Quality Or Two Of My Particular Acquaintance, And Then I Shall Go Back Again To France.

I Am Ashamed Of Confessing That I Have Nothing To Confess.

In England, I Was Quite Struck To See How Forward The Girls Are Made--a Child Of 10 Years Old, Will Chat And Keep You Company, While Her Parents Are Busy Or Out Etc.--with The Ease Of A Woman Of 26. But Then, How Does This Education Go On?--not At All: It Absolutely Stops Short.

To Nobody, Then, Will I Write My Journal! Since To Nobody Can I Be Wholly Unreserved, To Nobody Can I Reveal Every Thought, Every Wish Of My Heart, With The Most Unlimited Confidence, The Most Unremitting Sincerity, To The End Of My Life!