A Girl's Affections Should Never Be Won

He Is Very Fond Of Me, Almost Too Fond. I Could Do With Less Caressing And More Rationality. I Should Like To Be Less Of A Pet And More Of A Friend, If I Might Choose; But I Won't Complain Of That: I Am Only Afraid His Affection Loses In Depth Where It Gains In Ardour. I Sometimes Liken It To A Fire Of Dry Twigs And Branches Compared With One Of Solid Coal, Very Bright And Hot; But If It Should Burn Itself Out And Leave Nothing But Ashes Behind.

But As The Priceless Treasure Too Frequently Hides At The Bottom Of Well, It Needs Some Courage To Dive For It, Especially As He That Does So Will Be Likely To Incur More Scorn And Obloquy For The Mud And Water Into Which He Has Ventured To Plunge, Than Thanks For The Jewel He Procures; As Like In Manner, She Who Undertakes The Cleansing Of A Careless Bachelor's Apartment Will Be Liable To More Abuse For The Dust She Raises Than Commendation For The Clearance She Effects.

It Is A Hard, Embittering Thing To Have One's Kind Feelings And Good Intentions Cast Back In One's Teeth.

You Need Not Fear Me, For I Not Only Should Think It Wrong To Marry A Man That Was Deficient In Sense Or In Principle, But I Should Never Be Tempted To Do It; For I Could Not Like Him, If He Were Ever So Handsome, And Ever So Charming, In Other Respects; I Should Hate Him—despise Him—pity Him—anything But Love Him. My Affections Not Only Ought To Be Founded On Approbation, But They Will And Must Be So: For, Without Approving, I Cannot Love. It Is Needless To Say, I Ought To Be Able To Respect And Honour The Man I Marry, As Well As Love Him, For I Cannot Love Him Without.

There Are Great Books In This World And Great Worlds In Books.