One Has Not Great Hopes From Birmingham.

She Was Feeling, Thinking, Trembling About Everything; Agitated, Happy, Miserable, Infinitely Obliged, Absolutely Angry.

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.

Could There Be Finer Symptoms? Is Not General Incivility The Very Essence Of Love?

My Dear Mr. Bennet," Said His Lady To Him One Day, "have You Heard That Netherfield Park Is Let At Last?

You Pierce My Soul. I Am Half Agony, Half Hope...i Have Loved None But You.