The more I know of the world, the more I am convinced that I shall never see a man whom I can really love.

They are much to be pitied who have not been given a taste for nature early in life.

There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense.

Nobody can tell what I suffer! But it is always so. Those who do not complain are never pitied.

If any young men come for Mary or Kitty, send them in, for I am quite as leisure.

It is always incomprehensible to a man that a woman should ever refuse an offer of marriage.

It is the misfortune of poetry, to be seldom safely enjoyed by those who enjoy it completely.