They gave themselves up wholly to their sorrow, seeking increase of wretchedness in every reflection that could afford it, and resolved against ever admitting consolation in future.

I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.

They parted at last with mutual civility, and possibly a mutual desire of never meeting again.

She had a lively, playful disposition that delighted in anything ridiculous.

I frequently observe that one pretty face would be followed by five and thirty frights.

Mrs. Jennings was a widow, with an ample jointure. She had only two daughters, both of whom she had lived to see respectably married, and she had now therefore nothing to do but to marry all the rest of the world.

How can you contrive to write so even?