It Is A Difference Of Opinion Which

It Taught Me To Hope, As I Had Scarcely Ever Allowed Myself To Hope Before.

Vanity Was The Beginning And The End Of Sir Walter Elliot's Character; Vanity Of Person And Of Situation. He Had Been Remarkably Handsome In His Youth; And, At Fifty-four, Was Still A Very Fine Man. Few Women Could Think More Of Their Personal Appearance Than He Did, Nor Could The Valet Of Any New Made Lord Be More Delighted With The Place He Held In Society. He Considered The Blessing Of Beauty As Inferior Only To The Blessing Of A Baronetcy; And The Sir Walter Elliott, Who United These Gifts, Was The Constant Object Of His Warmest Respect And Devotion.

There Are As Many Forms Of Love As There Are Moments In Time.

But There Was Happiness Elsewhere Which No Description Can Reach.

An Egg Boiled Very Soft Is Not Unwholesome.