It Has Been Coming On So Gradually,

What Do You Know Of My Heart? What Do You Know Of Anything But Your Own Suffering?

I Have Been Used To Consider Poetry As "the Food Of Love" Said Darcy. "of A Fine, Stout, Healthy Love It May. Everything Nourishes What Is Strong Already. But If It Be Only A Slight, Thin Sort Of Inclination, I Am Convinced That One Good Sonnet Will Starve It Entirely Away.

I Cannot Think Well Of A Man Who Sports With Any Woman's Feelings; And There May Often Be A Great Deal More Suffered Than A Stander-by Can Judge Of.

... Strange Things May Be Generally Accounted For If Their Cause Be Fairly Seached Out.

I Walk: I Prefer Walking.