A Person Who Is Knowingly Bent On

I Do Not Find It Easy To Talk To People I Don't Know.

Time Will Generally Lessen The Interest Of Every Attachment Not Within The Daily Circle.

I Have Faults Enough, But They Are Not, I Hope, Of Understanding. My Temper I Dare Not Vouch For. It Is, I Believe, Too Little Yielding— Certainly Too Little For The Convenience Of The World. I Cannot Forget The Follies And Vices Of Other So Soon As I Ought, Nor Their Offenses Against Myself. My Feelings Are Not Puffed About With Every Attempt To Move Them. My Temper Would Perhaps Be Called Resentful. My Good Opinion Once Lost, Is Lost Forever.

All The World Is Good And Agreeable In Your Eyes.

Nothing Is More Deceitful Than The Appearance Of Humility.