I do not find it easy to talk to people I don't know. - Jane Austen

"Eleanor went to her room "where she was free to think and be wretched.

Now I must give one smirk and then we may be rational again

Her pleasure in the walk must arise from the exercise and the day, from the view of the last smiles of the year upon the tawny leaves and withered hedges, and from repeating to herself some few of the thousand poetical descriptions extant of autumn — that season of peculiar and inexhaustible influence on the mind of taste and tenderness — that season which has drawn from every poet worthy of being read some attempt at description, or some lines of feeling.