An Old Woman ... Is A Person

I Am Ashamed Of Confessing That I Have Nothing To Confess.

The Laws Of Custom Make Our [returning A Visit] Necessary. O How I Hate This Vile Custom Which Obliges Us To Make Slaves Of Ourselves! To Sell The Most Precious Property We Boast, Our Time;--and To Sacrifice It To Every Prattling Impertinent Who Chooses To Demand It!

I Never Pretend To Be So Superior A Being As To Be Above Having And Indulging A Hobby Horse [her Journal Writing], And While I Keep Mine Within Due Bounds And Limits, Nobody, I Flatter Myself, Would Wish To Deprive Me Of The Poor Animal: To Be Sure, He Is Not Formed For Labour, And Is Rather Lame And Weak, But Then The Dear Creature Is Faithful, Constant, And Loving, And Though He Sometimes Prances, Would Not Kick Anyone Into The Mire, Or Hurt A Single Soul For The World--and I Would Not Part With Him For One Who Could Win The Greatest Prize That Ever Was Won At Any Races.

We Continually Say Things To Support An Opinion, Which We Have Given, That In Reality We Don't Above Half Mean.

People Who Live Together Naturally Catch The Looks And Air Of One Another And Without Having One Feature Alike, They Contract A Something In The Whole Countenance Which Strikes One As A Resemblance