Perfect Happiness, Even In Memory, Is Not

Mrs. Jennings Was A Widow, With An Ample Jointure. She Had Only Two Daughters, Both Of Whom She Had Lived To See Respectably Married, And She Had Now Therefore Nothing To Do But To Marry All The Rest Of The World.

One Can Never Have Too Large A Party.

I Wish I Might Take This For A Compliment; But To Be So Easily Seen Through I Am Afraid Is Pitiful.

One Cannot Know What A Man Really Is By The End Of A Fortnight.

There Is Not The Hundredth Part Of The Wine Consumed In This Kingdom That There Ought To Be. Our Foggy Climate Wants Help.