You Must Be The Best Judge Of

Sophia Shrieked And Fainted On The Ground – I Screamed And Instantly Ran Mad. We Remained Thus Mutually Deprived Of Our Senses, Some Minutes, And On Regaining Them Were Deprived Of Them Again. For An Hour And A Quarter Did We Continue In This Unfortunate Situation – Sophia Fainting Every Moment And I Running Mad As Often. At Length A Groan From The Hapless Edward (who Alone Retained Any Share Of Life) Restored Us To Ourselves.

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.

But A Sanguine Temper, Though For Ever Expecting More Good Than Occurs, Does Not Always Pay For Its Hopes By Any Proportionate Depression. It Soon Flies Over The Present Failure, And Begins To Hope Again.

I Trust That Absolutes Have Gradations.

If Any One Faculty Of Our Nature May Be Called More Wonderful Than The Rest, I Do Think It Is Memory. There Seems Something More Speakingly Incomprehensible In The Powers, The Failures, The Inequalities Of Memory, Than In Any Other Of Our Intelligences. The Memory Is Sometimes So Retentive, So Serviceable, So Obedient; At Others, So Bewildered And So Weak; And At Others Again, So Tyrannic, So Beyond Control! We Are, To Be Sure, A Miracle Every Way; But Our Powers Of Recollecting And Of Forgetting Do Seem Peculiarly Past Finding Out.