It Is The Misfortune Of Poetry, To

A Submissive Spirit Might Be Patient, A Strong Understanding Would Supply Resolution, But Here Was Something More; Here Was That Elasticity Of Mind, That Disposition To Be Comforted, That Power Of Turning Readily From Evil To Good, And Of Finding Employment Which Carried Her Out Of Herself, Which Was From Nature Alone. It Was The Choicest Gift Of Heaven; And Anne Viewed Her Friend As One Of Those Instances In Which, By A Merciful Appointment, It Seems Designed To Counterbalance Almost Every Other Want.

Upon The Whole, Therefore, She Found, What Has Been Sometimes Found Before, That An Event To Which She Had Looked Forward With Impatient Desire, Did Not In Taking Place, Bring All The Satisfaction She Had Promised Herself. It Was Consequently Necessary To Name Some Other Period For The Commencement Of Actual Felicity; To Have Some Other Point On Which Her Wishes And Hopes Might Be Fixed, And By Again Enjoying The Pleasure Of Anticipation, Console Herself For The Present, And Prepare For Another Disappointment.

But There Are Some Situations Of The Human Mind In Which Good Sense Has Very Little Power.

I Will Not Say That Your Mulberry Trees Are Dead; But I Am Afraid They're Not Alive.

The Evil Of The Actual Disparity In Their Ages (and Mr. Woodhouse Had Not Married Early) Was Much Increased By His Constitution And Habits; For Having Been A Valetudinarian All His Life, Without Activity Of Mind Or Body, He Was A Much Older Man In Ways Than In Years; And Though Everywhere Beloved For The Friendliness Of His Heart And His Amiable Temper, His Talents Could Not Have Recommended Him At Any Time.