We Are Each Of An Unsocial, Taciturn

Ah, Mother! How Do You Do?' Said He, Giving Her A Hearty Shake Of The Hand; 'where Did You Get That Quiz Of A Hat? It Makes You Look Like An Old Witch...' On His Two Younger Sisters He Then Bestowed An Equal Portion Of His Fraternal Tenderness, For He Asked Each Of Them How They Did, And Observed That They Both Looked Very Ugly.

I Have Not The Pleasure Of Understanding You.

But Are They All Horrid, Are You Sure They Are All Horrid? [referring To Gothic Novels, Fashionable In England At The Beginning Of The 19th Century, But Frowned Upon In Polite Society.]

Sometimes One Is Guided By What They Say Of Themselves, And Very Frequently By What Other People Say Of Them, Without Giving Oneself Time To Deliberate And Judge." -elinor Dashwood

Told Herself Likewise Not To Hope. But It Was Too Late. Hope Had Already Entered.