She Was Feeling, Thinking, Trembling About Everything;

[mrs. Allen Was] Never Satisfied With The Day Unless She Spent The Chief Of It By The Side Of Mrs. Thorpe, In What They Called Conversation, But In Which There Was Scarcely Ever Any Exchange Of Opinion, And Not Often Any Resemblance Of Subject, For Mrs. Thorpe Talked Chiefly Of Her Children, And Mrs. Allen Of Her Gowns.

I Have Not Wanted Syllables Where Actions Have Spoken So Plainly.

She Hoped To Be Wise And Reasonable In Time; But Alas! Alas! She Must Confess To Herself That She Was Not Wise Yet.

There Seems Almost A General Wish Of Descrying The Capacity And Undervaluing The Labour Of The Novelist, And Of Slighting The Performances Which Have Only Genius, Wit, And Taste To Recommend Them.

We Do Not Look In Great Cities For Our Best Morality.