You Pierce My Soul. I Am Half Agony, Half Hope. Tell Me Not That I Am Too Late, That Such Precious Feelings Are Gone For Ever. I Offer Myself To You Again With A Heart Even More Your Own Than When You Almost Broke It, Eight And A Half Years Ago. Dare Not Say That A Man Forgets Sooner Than Woman, That His Love Has An Earlier Death. I Have Loved None But You. Unjust I May Have Been, Weak And Resentful I Have Been, But Never Inconstant.

-Jane Austen

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You Pierce My Soul. I Am Half

Jane Austen

You Pierce My Soul. I Am Half Agony, Half Hope. Tell Me Not That I Am Too Late, That Such Precious Feelings Are Gone For Ever. I Offer Myself To You Again With A Heart Even More Your Own Than When You Almost Broke It, Eight And A Half Years Ago. Dare Not Say That A Man Forgets Sooner Than Woman, That His Love Has An Earlier Death. I Have Loved None But You. Unjust I May Have Been, Weak And Resentful I Have Been, But Never Inconstant.

Topic

Heart

Men

Years

She Went, However, And They Sauntered About Together Many A Half Hour In Mr. Grant's Shrubbery, The Weather Being Unusually Mild For The Time Of Year, And Venturing Sometimes Even To Sit Down On One Of The Benches Now Comparatively Unsheltered, Remaining There Perhaps Till, In The Midst Of Some Tender Ejaculation Of Fanny's On The Sweets Of So Protracted An Autumn, They Were Forced By The Sudden Swell Of A Cold Gust Shaking Down The Last Few Yellow Leaves About Them, To Jump Up And Walk For Warmth.

Sweet

Time

Autumn