I Should Not Mind Anything At All.

No One Who Had Ever Seen Catherine Morland In Her Infancy, Would Have Supposed Her Born To Be A Heroine... But From Fifteen To Seventeen She Was In Training For A Heroine.

I Use The Verb 'to Torment,' As I Observed To Be Your Own Method, Instead Of 'to Instruct,' Supposing Them To Be Now Admitted As Synonymous.

Her Companion's Discourse Now Sunk From Its Hitherto Animated Pitch, To Nothing More Than A Short, Decisive Sentence Of Praise Or Condemnation On The Face Of Every Woman They Met; And Catherine, After Listening And Agreeing As Long As She Could,with All The Civility And Deference Of The Youthful Female Mind, Fearful Of Hazarding An Opinion Of Its Own In Opposition To That Of A Self-assured Man, Especially Where The Beauty Of Her Own Sex Is Concerned, Ventured At Length To Vary The Subject.

And Pictures Of Perfection, As You Know, Make Me Sick And Wicked.

Nothing Is More Deceitful Than The Appearance Of Humility.