I Will Be Calm. I Will Be

They Walked On, Without Knowing In What Direction. There Was Too Much To Be Thought, And Felt, And Said, For Attention To Any Other Objects.

Brandon Is Just The Kind Of Man Whom Every Body Speaks Well Of, And Nobody Cares About; Whom All Are Delighted To See, And Nobody Remembers To Talk To.

A Novel Must Show How The World Truly Is. Somehow, Reveals The True Source Of Our Actions.

She Is Probably By This Time As Tired Of Me, As I Am Of Her; But As She Is Too Polite And I Am Too Civil To Say So, Our Letters Are Still As Frequent And Affectionate As Ever, And Our Attachment As Firm And Sincere As When It First Commenced.

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.]