From a night of more sleep than she had expected, Marianne awoke the next morning to the same consciousness of misery in which she had closed her eyes.

If I could but know his heart, everything would become easy.

To wish was to hope, and to hope was to expect

But to appear happy when I am so miserable — Oh! who can require it?

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

The more I know of the world, the more I am convinced that I shall never see a man whom I can really love. I require so much!

I come here with no expectations, only to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is and always will be...yours.

I can feel no sentiment of approbation inferior to love.

…told herself likewise not to hope. But it was too late. Hope had already entered…

If a book is well written, I always find it too short.

And Marianne, who had the knack of finding her way in every house to the library, however it might be avoided by the family in general, soon procured herself a book.

Every advantage is temporary.

The imagination gland doesn't die. It just becomes reliant on manufactured spirit.

Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin as self-neglecting.

I've never known a runner who had as much patience as he needed.

Blame no one. Expect nothing. Do something.

I care about what the fans feel.

I'm certainly not a practicing Jew. I would never claim, 'I'm Jewish.' That's not the first and foremost thing in my mind, as far as who I am as a person.

Never comment on a woman's rear end. Never use the words 'large' or 'size' with 'rear end'. Never. Avoid the area altogether. Trust me.