I Want Nothing But Death.

Nothing Is More Deceitful Than The Appearance Of Humility.

I Begin Already To Weigh My Words And Sentences More Than I Did, And Am Looking About For A Sentiment, An Illustration, Or A Metaphor In Every Corner Of The Room. Could My Ideas Flow As Fast As The Rain In The Storecloset It Would Be Charming.

I Have Never Yet Known What It Was To Separate Esteem From Love

She Was Nothing More Than A Mere Good-tempered, Civil And Obliging Young Woman; As Such We Could Scarcely Dislike Her -- She Was Only An Object Of Contempt

Books--oh! No. I Am Sure We Never Read The Same, Or Not With The Same Feelings." "i Am Sorry You Think So; But If That Be The Case, There Can At Least Be No Want Of Subject. We May Compare Our Different Opinions.