Are The Shades Of Pemberley

...when Pain Is Over, The Remembrance Of It Often Becomes A Pleasure.

Next To Being Married, A Girl Likes To Be Crossed In Love A Little Now And Then. It Is Something To Think Of, And Gives Her A Sort Of Distinction Among Her Companions

There Could Have Never Been Two Hearts So Open, No Tastes So Similar, No Feelings So In Unison, No Countenances So Beloved. Now They Were As Strangers; Nay, Worse Than Strangers, For They Could Never Become Acquainted. It Was A Perpetual Estrangement.

Let Us Have The Luxury Of Silence.

It Is Not Time Or Opportunity That Is To Determine Intimacy;—it Is Disposition Alone. Seven Years Would Be Insufficient To Make Some People Acquainted With Each Other, And Seven Days Are More Than Enough For Others.