His Own Enjoyment, Or His Own Ease,

In A Letter From Bath To Her Sister, Cassandra, One Senses Her Frustration At Her Sheltered Existence, Tuesday, 12 May 1801. Another Stupid Party . . . With Six People To Look On, And Talk Nonsense To Each Other.

When I Look Out On Such A Night As This, I Feel As If There Could Be Neither Wickedness Nor Sorrow In The World; And There Certainly Would Be Less Of Both If The Sublimity Of Nature Were More Attended To, And People Were Carried More Out Of Themselves By Contemplating Such A Scene.

Mr. Knightley, If I Have Not Spoken, It Is Because I Am Afraid I Will Awaken Myself From This Dream.

Without Scheming To Do Wrong, Or To Make Others Unhappy, There May Be Error And There May Be Misery. Thoughtlessness, Want Of Attention To Other People's Feelings, And Want Of Resolution, Will Do The Business.

I Should Infinitely Prefer A Book.