…but Then I Am Unlike Other People

I Cannot Fix On The Hour, Or The Spot, Or The Look Or The Words, Which Laid The Foundation. It Is Too Long Ago. I Was In The Middle Before I Knew That I Had Begun.

How Much Sooner One Tires Of Anything Than Of A Book!

I Am No Indiscriminate Novel Reader. The Mere Trash Of The Common Circulating Library I Hold In The Highest Contempt.

I Have Now Attained The True Art Of Letter-writing, Which We Are Always Told, Is To Express On Paper Exactly What One Would Say To The Same Person By Word Of Mouth.

You Showed Me How Insufficient Were All My Pretensions To Please A Woman Worthy Of Being Pleased.