Perhaps it is our imperfections that make us so perfect for one another.
The Very first moment I beheld him, my heart was irrevocably gone.
Were I to fall in love, indeed, it would be a different thing! but I never have been in love; it is not my way, or my nature; and I do not think I ever shall.
I am not fond of the idea of my shrubberies being always approachable.
Arguments are too much like disputes.
Walter Scott has no business to write novels, especially good ones. He has fame and profit enough as a poet, and should not be taking the bread out of other people's mouths.