And pictures of perfection, as you know, make me sick and wicked.

I have frequently detected myself in such kind of mistakes... in a total misapprehension of character at some point or other: fancying people so much more gay or grave, or ingenious or stupid than they really are, and I can hardly tell why, or in what the deception originated. Sometimes one is guided by what other people say of them, without giving oneself time to deliberate and judge.

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.

A mother would have been always present. A mother would have been a constant friend; her influence would have been beyond all other.

And your defect is a propensity to hate everybody." "And yours," he replied with a smile, "is willfully to misunderstand them.

“It is not everyone,” said Elinor, “who has your passion for dead leaves.”

Surprises are foolish things. The pleasure is not enhanced, and the inconvenience is often considerable.