She [mary I] Married Philip King Of

In A Letter From Bath To Her Sister, Cassandra, One Senses Her Frustration At Her Sheltered Existence, Tuesday, 12 May 1801. Another Stupid Party . . . With Six People To Look On, And Talk Nonsense To Each Other.

…she Felt Depressed Beyond Any Thing She Had Ever Known Before.

The Evergreen! How Beautiful, How Welcome, How Wonderful The Evergreen! When One Thinks Of It, How Astonishing A Variety Of Nature! In Some Countries We Know That The Tree That Sheds Its Leaf Is The Variety, But That Does Not Make It Less Amazing, That The Same Soil And The Same Sun Should Nurture Plants Differing In The First Rule And Law Of Their Existence.

She Was Stronger Alone; And Her Own Good Sense So Well Supported Her, That Her Firmness Was As Unshaken, Her Appearance Of Cheerfulness As Invariable, As, With Regrets So Poignant And So Fresh, It Was Possible For Them To Be.

Oh! Write, Write. Finish It At Once. Let There Be An End Of This Suspense. Fix, Commit, Condemn Yourself.