that you seemed almost as fearful of notice and praise as other women were of neglect. (Edmund to Fanny)

...I will not allow books to prove any thing." "But how shall we prove any thing?" "We never shall.

For what do we live, but to make sport by subjecting our neighbors to endless discretionary review for minor additions?

Your countenance perfectly informs me that you were in company last night with the person, whom you think the most agreeable in the world, the person who interests you at this present time, more than all the rest of the world put together.

But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them for ever.

Never could I expect to be so truly beloved and important; so always first and always right in any man's eyes as I am in my father's.

To love is to burn, to be on fire.