I Love You. Most Ardently.

How Little Of Permanent Happiness Could Belong To A Couple Who Were Only Brought Together Because Their Passions Were Stronger Than Their Virtue.

A Fondness For Reading, Which, Properly Directed, Must Be An Education In Itself.

What Do You Know Of My Heart? What Do You Know Of Anything But Your Own Suffering. For Weeks, Marianne, I've Had This Pressing On Me Without Being At Liberty To Speak Of It To A Single Creature. It Was Forced On Me By The Very Person Whose Prior Claims Ruined All My Hope. I Have Endured Her Exultations Again And Again Whilst Knowing Myself To Be Divided From Edward Forever. Believe Me, Marianne, Had I Not Been Bound To Silence I Could Have Provided Proof Enough Of A Broken Heart, Even For You.

There Is Something In The Eloquence Of The Pulpit, When It Is Really Eloquence, Which Is Entitled To The Highest Praise And Honour. The Preacher Who Can Touch And Affect Such An Heterogeneous Mass Of Hearers, On Subjects Limited, And Long Worn Thread-bare In All Common Hands; Who Can Say Any Thing New Or Striking, Any Thing That Rouses The Attention, Without Offending The Taste, Or Wearing Out The Feelings Of His Hearers, Is A Man Whom One Could Not (in His Public Capacity) Honour Enough.

A Man Always Imagines A Woman To Be Ready For Anybody Who Asks Her.