What do you know of my heart? What do you know of anything but your own suffering?
I think I may boast myself to be, with all possible vanity, the most unlearned and uninformed female who ever dared to be an authoress.
Nothing is more deceitful than the appearance of humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an indirect boast.
We do not look in great cities for our best morality.
Arguments are too much like disputes.
Yes, I found myself, by insensible degrees, sincerely fond of her; and the happiest hours of my life were what I spent with her.