...i Will Not Allow Books To Prove

I Cannot Fix On The Hour, Or The Spot, Or The Look Or The Words, Which Laid The Foundation. It Is Too Long Ago. I Was In The Middle Before I Knew That I Had Begun.

I Wish, As Well As Everybody Else, To Be Perfectly Happy; But, Like Everybody Else, It Must Be In My Own Way.

Incline Us Oh God! To Think Humbly Of Ourselves, To Be Severe Only In The Examination Of Our Own Conduct, To Consider Our Fellow-creatures With Kindness, And To Judge Of All They Say And Do With That Charity Which We Would Desire From Them Ourselves.

Her Form, Though Not So Correct As Her Sister's, In Having The Advantage Of Height, Was More Striking; And Her Face Was So Lovely, That When In The Common Cant Of Praise She Was Called A Beautiful Girl, Truth Was Less Violently Outraged Than Usually Happens.

“it Is Not Everyone,” Said Elinor, “who Has Your Passion For Dead Leaves.”