“When the first of hers reached me what i felt is, in the common phrase, not to be expressed; in a more simple one, perhaps too simple to raise any emotion, my feelings were very, very painful. Every line, every word was - in the hackneyed metaphor which their dear writer, were she here, would forbid a dagger to my heart. To know that Marianne was in town in the sane language - a thunderbolt! Thunderbolts and daggers! - what a reproof would she given me! - her taste, her opinions - I believe they are better known to me than my own, and I am sure they are dearer.”
“…He admires as a lover, not as a connoisseur. To satisfy me, those characters must be united. I could not be happy with a man whose taste did not in every point coincide with my own. He must enter into all my feelings; the same books, the sane music must charm us both!”