I Have Read Your Book, And I

Fine Dancing, I Believe Like Virtue, Must Be Its Own Reward. Those Who Are Standing By Are Usually Thinking Of Something Very Different.

We Neither Of Us Perform To Strangers.

A Man Who Has Nothing To Do With His Own Time Has No Conscience In His Intrusion On That Of Others.

Vanity Was The Beginning And The End Of Sir Walter Elliot's Character; Vanity Of Person And Of Situation. He Had Been Remarkably Handsome In His Youth; And, At Fifty-four, Was Still A Very Fine Man. Few Women Could Think More Of Their Personal Appearance Than He Did, Nor Could The Valet Of Any New Made Lord Be More Delighted With The Place He Held In Society. He Considered The Blessing Of Beauty As Inferior Only To The Blessing Of A Baronetcy; And The Sir Walter Elliott, Who United These Gifts, Was The Constant Object Of His Warmest Respect And Devotion.

Oh! Single, My Dear, To Be Sure! A Single Man Of Large Fortune; Four Or Five Thousand A Year. What A Fine Thing For Our Girls!