Till This Moment I Never Knew Myself.

Mrs. Jennings Was A Widow, With An Ample Jointure. She Had Only Two Daughters, Both Of Whom She Had Lived To See Respectably Married, And She Had Now Therefore Nothing To Do But To Marry All The Rest Of The World.

Maybe It’s That I Find It Hard To Forgive The Follies And Vices Of Others, Or Their Offenses Against Me. My Good Opinion, Once Lost, Is Lost Forever.

Books--oh! No. I Am Sure We Never Read The Same, Or Not With The Same Feelings." "i Am Sorry You Think So; But If That Be The Case, There Can At Least Be No Want Of Subject. We May Compare Our Different Opinions.

Indeed, I Am Very Sorry To Be Right In This Instance. I Would Much Rather Have Been Merry Than Wise.

In A Letter From Bath To Her Sister, Cassandra, One Senses Her Frustration At Her Sheltered Existence, Tuesday, 12 May 1801. Another Stupid Party . . . With Six People To Look On, And Talk Nonsense To Each Other.