And Pictures Of Perfection, As You Know,

He Could Not Forgive Her, But He Could Not Be Unfeeling. Though Condemning Her For The Past, And Considering It With High And Unjust Resentment, Though Perfectly Careless Of Her, And Though Becoming Attached To Another, Still He Could Not See Her Suffer, Without The Desire Of Giving Her Relief. It Was A Remainder Of Former Sentiment; It Was An Impulse Of Pure, Though Unacknowledged Friendship; It Was A Proof Of His Own Warm And Amiable Heart.

Were I To Fall In Love, Indeed, It Would Be A Different Thing! But I Never Have Been In Love; It Is Not My Way, Or My Nature; And I Do Not Think I Ever Shall.

The Musgroves Had Had The Ill Fortune Of A Very Troublesome, Hopeless Son, And The Good Fortune To Lose Him Before He Reached His Twentieth Year.

Here And There, Human Nature May Be Great In Times Of Trial, But Generally Speaking It Is Its Weakness And Not Its Strength That Appears In A Sick Chamber; It Is Selfishness And Impatience Rather Than Generosity And Fortitude, That One Hears Of. There Is So Little Real Friendship In The World! – And Unfortunately' (speaking Low And Tremulously) 'there Are So Many Who Forget To Think Seriously Till It Is Almost Too Late.

I Am Now Convinced That I Have Never Been Much In Love; For Had I Really Experienced That Pure And Elevating Passion, I Should At Present Detest His Very Name, And Wish Him All Manner Of Evil. But My Feelings Are Not Only Cordial Towards Him; They Are Even Impartial Towards Her. I Cannot Find Out That I Hate Her At All, Or That I Am In The Least Unwilling To Think Her A Very Good Sort Of Girl. There Can Be No Love In All This.