You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.

Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled.

There is safety in reserve, but no attraction. One cannot love a reserved person.

You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.

And sometimes I have kept my feelings to myself, because I could find no language to describe them in.

Is not poetry the food of love?

Far be it from me, my dear sister, to depreciate such pleasures. They would doubtless be congenial with the generality of female minds. But I confess they would have no charms for me. I should infinitely prefer a book.