One cannot know what a man really is by the end of a fortnight.

A Mr. (save, perhaps, some half dozen in the nation,) always needs a note of explanation.

With women, the heart argues, not the mind.

Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love.

Thus much indeed he was obliged to acknowledge - that he had been constant unconsciously, nay unintentionally; that he had meant to forget her, and believed it to be done. He had imagined himself indifferent, when he had only been angry; and he had been unjust to her merits, because he had been a sufferer from them.

It was not in her nature, however, to increase her vexations by dwelling on them. She was confident of having performed her duty, and to fret over unavoidable evils, or augment them by anxiety, was not part of her disposition.

It taught me to hope, as I had scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before.