Good Apple Pies Are A Considerable Part

There Could Have Never Been Two Hearts So Open, No Tastes So Similar, No Feelings So In Unison, No Countenances So Beloved. Now They Were As Strangers; Nay, Worse Than Strangers, For They Could Never Become Acquainted. It Was A Perpetual Estrangement.

Is Not Poetry The Food Of Love?

Are The Shades Of Pemberley To Be Thus Polluted?

I Will Not Allow It To Be More Man's Nature Than Woman's To Be Inconstant.

May I Ask You What These Questions Tend?' 'merely To The Illustration Of Your Character,' Said She, Endeavouring To Shake Off Her Gravity. 'i Am Trying To Make It Out.' 'and What Is Your Success?' She Shook Her Head. 'i Do Not Get On At All. I Hear Such Different Accounts Of You As Puzzle Me Exceedingly.