There are as many forms of love as there are moments in time.

Fanny! You are killing me!" "No man dies of love but on the stage, Mr. Crawford.

What! Would I be turned back from doing a thing that I had determined to do, and that I knew to be right, by the airs and interference of such a person, or any person I may say? No, I have no idea of being so easily persuaded. When I have made up my mind, I have made it.

An artist cannot do anything slovenly.

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

Those who have not more must be satisfied with what they have.

To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love.