For What Do We Live, But To

Yes, I Found Myself, By Insensible Degrees, Sincerely Fond Of Her; And The Happiest Hours Of My Life Were What I Spent With Her.

A Woman Of Seven And Twenty, Said Marianne, After Pausing A Moment, Can Never Hope To Feel Or Inspire Affection Again.

They Walked On, Without Knowing In What Direction. There Was Too Much To Be Thought, And Felt, And Said, For Attention To Any Other Objects.

To Be Fond Of Dancing Was A Certain Step Towards Falling In Love.

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