She Told The Story, However, With Great

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.

Beware How You Give Your Heart.

It Is The Misfortune Of Poetry, To Be Seldom Safely Enjoyed By Those Who Enjoy It Completely.

Had I Been In Love, I Could Not Have Been More Wretchedly Blind. But Vanity, Not Love, Has Been My Folly.

You Expect Me To Account For Opinions Which You Choose To Call Mine, But Which I Have Never Acknowledged.