Arguments Are Too Much Like Disputes.

It Is A Difference Of Opinion Which Does Not Admit Of Proof. We Each Begin Probably With A Little Bias Towards Our Own Sex, And Upon That Bias Build Every Circumstance In Favour Of It Which Has Occurred Within Our Own Circle.

There Is A Quickness Of Perception In Some, A Nicety In The Discernment Of Character, A Natural Penetration, In Short, Which No Experience In Others Can Equal.

The Truth Is, That In London It Is Always A Sickly Season. Nobody Is Healthy In London, Nobody Can Be.

The Mere Habit Of Learning To Love Is The Thing; And A Teachableness Of Disposition In A Young Lady Is A Great Blessing

Heaven Forbid! -- That Would Be The Greatest Misfortune Of All! -- To Find A Man Agreeable Whom One Is Determined To Hate! -- Do Not Wish Me Such An Evil.