I Think Him Every Thing That Is

I Certainly Will Not Persuade Myself To Feel More Than I Do. I Am Quite Enough In Love. I Should Be Sorry To Be More

His Cold Politeness, His Ceremonious Grace, Were Worse Than Anything.

There, He Had Seen Every Thing To Exalt In His Estimation The Woman He Had Lost, And There Begun To Deplore The Pride, The Folly, The Madness Of Resentment, Which Had Kept Him From Trying To Regain Her When Thrown In His Way.

She Mediated, By Turns, On Broken Promises And Broken Arches, Phaetons And False Hangings, Tilneys And Trap-doors.

Without Scheming To Do Wrong, Or To Make Others Unhappy, There May Be Error And There May Be Misery. Thoughtlessness, Want Of Attention To Other People's Feelings, And Want Of Resolution, Will Do The Business.