Men Of Sense, Whatever You May Choose

Real Solemn History, I Cannot Be Interested In.... The Quarrels Of Popes And Kings, With Wars And Pestilences In Every Page; The Men All So Good For Nothing, And Hardly Any Women At All.

To Begin Perfect Happiness At The Respective Ages Of 26 And 18 Is To Do Pretty Well.

How She Might Have Felt Had There Been No Captain Wentworth In The Case, Was Not Worth Enquiry; For There Was A Captain Wentworth: And Be The Conclusion Of The Present Suspense Good Or Bad, Her Affection Would Be His Forever. Their Union, She Believed, Could Not Divide Her More From Other Men, Than Their Final Separation.

Happiness In Marriage Is Entirely A Matter Of Chance. If The Dispositions Of The Parties Are Ever So Well Known To Each Other Or Ever So Similar Beforehand, It Does Not Advance Their Felicity In The Least. They Always Continue To Grow Sufficiently Unlike Afterwards To Have Their Share Of Vexation; And It Is Better To Know As Little As Possible Of The Defects Of The Person With Whom You Are To Pass Your Life.

A Scheme Of Which Every Part Promises Delight, Can Never Be Successful; And General Disappointment Is Only Warded Off By The Defence Of Some Little Peculiar Vexation.