Jane Austen, The Beautifull Cassandra
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Jane Austen, The Beautifull Cassandra
I reread Sense and Sensibility, and one of the things that struck me about the novel is this:
"The youthful infatuation of nineteen would naturally blind him to every thing but her beauty and good nature; but the four succeeding years—years, which if rationally spent, give such improvement to the understanding, must have opened his eyes to her defects of education, while the same period of time, spent on her side in inferior society and more frivolous pursuits, had perhaps robbed her of that simplicity which might once have given an interesting character to her beauty."
Elinor, dear. You're nineteen.
What is youthful infatuation blinding you to?
Whenever a reader thinks of those passionate, suffering creatures, Emily Brontë, Emily Dickinson, Christina Rossetti, and wonders, a little despondently perhaps, whether happiness must be sacrificed by women artists to produce good work, this same reader can open her ‘Persuasion’ with a contented little sigh, remembering that at least one woman artist, and one of the most exquisite, enjoyed life, flirted, and dearly loved her sister.
- Stella Gibbons (author of Cold Comfort Farm).
Perfect happiness, even in memory, is not common[...]
Jane Austen, Emma
Artlessness will never do in Love matters […]
Jane Austen, Lady Susan
I cannot easily resolve on anything so serious as Marriage, especially as I am not at present in want of money[…]
Jane Austen, Lady Susan
My dear Alicia, of what a mistake were you guilty in marrying a Man of his age! — just old enough to be formal, ungovernable and to have the Gout — too old to be agreeable, and too young to die.
Jane Austen, Lady Susan