I Should Not Mind Anything At All.

Everybody's Heart Is Open, You Know, When They Have Recently Escaped From Severe Pain, Or Are Recovering The Blessing Of Health.

There Is Not The Least Wit In My Nature. I Am A Very Matter Of Fact, Plain Spoken Being, And May Blunder On The Borders Of A Repartee For Half An Hour Together Without Striking It Out.

Vanity Was The Beginning And The End Of Sir Walter Elliot's Character; Vanity Of Person And Of Situation. He Had Been Remarkably Handsome In His Youth; And, At Fifty-four, Was Still A Very Fine Man. Few Women Could Think More Of Their Personal Appearance Than He Did, Nor Could The Valet Of Any New Made Lord Be More Delighted With The Place He Held In Society. He Considered The Blessing Of Beauty As Inferior Only To The Blessing Of A Baronetcy; And The Sir Walter Elliott, Who United These Gifts, Was The Constant Object Of His Warmest Respect And Devotion.

I Am Excessively Diverted.

To Love Is To Burn, To Be On Fire.