One Cannot Know What A Man Really

I Take No Leave Of You, Miss Bennet: I Send No Compliments To Your Mother. You Deserve No Such Attention. I Am Most Seriously Displeased.

One Cannot Fix One's Eyes On The Commonest Natural Production Without Finding Food For A Rambling Fancy.

There Could Have Never Been Two Hearts So Open, No Tastes So Similar, No Feelings So In Unison, No Countenances So Beloved. Now They Were As Strangers; Nay, Worse Than Strangers, For They Could Never Become Acquainted. It Was A Perpetual Estrangement.

Where The Waters Do Agree, It Is Quite Wonderful The Relief They Give.

I Never Could Be So Happy As You. Till I Have Your Disposition, Your Goodness, I Never Can Have Your Happiness.