How much sooner one tires of anything than of a book! - Jane Austen

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

It sometimes happens that a woman is handsomer at twenty-nine than she was ten years before.

What do you know of my heart? What do you know of anything but your own suffering. For weeks, Marianne, I've had this pressing on me without being at liberty to speak of it to a single creature. It was forced on me by the very person whose prior claims ruined all my hope. I have endured her exultations again and again whilst knowing myself to be divided from Edward forever. Believe me, Marianne, had I not been bound to silence I could have provided proof enough of a broken heart, even for you.