Yet there it was not love. It was a little fever of admiration; but it might, probably must, end in love with some
Jane AustenI wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy; but, like everybody else, it must be in my own way.
Jane AustenDare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you.
Jane Austen