It is the misfortune of poetry, to be seldom safely enjoyed by those who enjoy it completely.
Men were put into the world to teach women the law of compromise.
Nobody minds having what is too good for them.
“It is not everyone,” said Elinor, “who has your passion for dead leaves.”
My style of writing is very diffrent from yours.
I do not know whether it ought to be so, but certainly silly things do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way. Wickedness is always wickedness, but folly is not always folly.