She had been forced into prudence in her youth, she learned romance as she grew older: the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning.

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.

How little of permanent happiness could belong to a couple who were only brought together because their passions were stronger than their virtue.

Such a letter was not to be soon recovered from. . . . Every moment rather brought fresh agitation. It was an overpowering happiness.

It was a gloomy prospect, and all that she could do was to throw a mist over it, and hope when the mist cleared away, she should see something else.

Good-humoured, unaffected girls, will not do for a man who has been used to sensible women. They are two distinct orders of being.

I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!- Elizabeth Bennet