Expectation ... Quickens Desire, While Possession Deadens

My Retirement Was Now Become Solitude; The Former Is, I Believe, The Best State For The Mind Of Man, The Latter Almost The Worst. In Complete Solitude, The Eye Wants Objects, The Heart Wants Attachments, The Understanding Wants Reciprocation. The Character Loses Its Tenderness When It Has Nothing To Strengthen It, Its Sweetness When It Has Nothing To Soothe It.

Anger Is The Common Refuge Of Insignificance. People Who Feel Their Character To Be Slight, Hope To Give It Weight By Inflation: But The Blown Bladder At Its Fullest Distention Is Still Empty.

Gentleness Is The Outgrowth Of Benignity.

The Sober Comfort, All The Peace Which Springs From The Large Aggregate Of Little Things.

If A Young Lady Has That Discretion And Modesty Without Which All Knowledge Is Little Worth, She Will Never Make An Ostentatious Parade Of It, Because She Will Rather Be Intent On Acquiring More Than On Displaying What She Has.