…she Felt Depressed Beyond Any Thing She

Were I To Fall In Love, Indeed, It Would Be A Different Thing! But I Never Have Been In Love; It Is Not My Way, Or My Nature; And I Do Not Think I Ever Shall.

I Have Faults Enough, But They Are Not, I Hope, Of Understanding. My Temper I Dare Not Vouch For. It Is, I Believe, Too Little Yielding— Certainly Too Little For The Convenience Of The World. I Cannot Forget The Follies And Vices Of Other So Soon As I Ought, Nor Their Offenses Against Myself. My Feelings Are Not Puffed About With Every Attempt To Move Them. My Temper Would Perhaps Be Called Resentful. My Good Opinion Once Lost, Is Lost Forever.

She [mary I] Married Philip King Of Spain, Who In Her Sister's Reign, Was Famous For Building Armadas.

Mr. Bennet, How Can You Abuse Your Own Children In Such A Way? You Take Delight In Vexing Me. You Have No Compassion For My Poor Nerves." "you Mistake Me, My Dear. I Have A High Respect For Your Nerves. They Are My Old Friends. I Have Heard You Mention Them With Consideration These Last Twenty Years At Least.

How Wonderful, How Very Wonderful The Operations Of Time, And The Changes Of The Human Mind!