One Day In The Country Is Exactly

I Read It [history] A Little As A Duty, But It Tells Me Nothing That Does Not Either Vex Or Weary Me. The Quarrels Of Popes And Kings, With Wars Or Pestilences, In Every Page; The Men All So Good For Nothing, And Hardly Any Women At All — It Is Very Tiresome: And Yet I Often Think It Odd That It Should Be So Dull, For A Great Deal Of It Must Be Invention.

You Either Choose This Method Of Passing The Evening Because You Are In Each Other's Confidence, And Have Secret Affairs To Discuss, Or Because You Are Conscious That Your Figures Appear To The Greatest Advantage In Walking;— If The First, I Should Be Completely In Your Way, And If The Second, I Can Admire You Much Better As I Sit By The Fire.

People Always Live For Ever When There Is An Annuity To Be Paid Them

I Never Wish To Offend, But I Am So Foolishly Shy, That I Often Seem Negligent, When I Am Only Kept Back By My Natural Awkwardness ... Shyness Is Only The Effect Of A Sense Of Inferiority In Some Way Or Other. If I Could Persuade Myself That My Manners Were Perfectly Easy And Graceful, I Should Not Be Shy.

If Any One Faculty Of Our Nature May Be Called More Wonderful Than The Rest, I Do Think It Is Memory. There Seems Something More Speakingly Incomprehensible In The Powers, The Failures, The Inequalities Of Memory, Than In Any Other Of Our Intelligences. The Memory Is Sometimes So Retentive, So Serviceable, So Obedient; At Others, So Bewildered And So Weak; And At Others Again, So Tyrannic, So Beyond Control! We Are, To Be Sure, A Miracle Every Way; But Our Powers Of Recollecting And Of Forgetting Do Seem Peculiarly Past Finding Out.