I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding— certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of other so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever.

The post office has a great charm at one point of our lives. When you have lived to my age, you will begin to think letters are never worth going through the rain for.

She hardly knew how to suppose that she could be an object of admiration to so great a man.

Where a man does his best with only moderate powers, he will have the advantage over negligent superiority.

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

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

Each found her greatest safety in silence.