But, God Knows Best, I

You Need Not Fear Me, For I Not Only Should Think It Wrong To Marry A Man That Was Deficient In Sense Or In Principle, But I Should Never Be Tempted To Do It; For I Could Not Like Him, If He Were Ever So Handsome, And Ever So Charming, In Other Respects; I Should Hate Him—despise Him—pity Him—anything But Love Him. My Affections Not Only Ought To Be Founded On Approbation, But They Will And Must Be So: For, Without Approving, I Cannot Love. It Is Needless To Say, I Ought To Be Able To Respect And Honour The Man I Marry, As Well As Love Him, For I Cannot Love Him Without.

But As The Priceless Treasure Too Frequently Hides At The Bottom Of Well, It Needs Some Courage To Dive For It, Especially As He That Does So Will Be Likely To Incur More Scorn And Obloquy For The Mud And Water Into Which He Has Ventured To Plunge, Than Thanks For The Jewel He Procures; As Like In Manner, She Who Undertakes The Cleansing Of A Careless Bachelor's Apartment Will Be Liable To More Abuse For The Dust She Raises Than Commendation For The Clearance She Effects.

Increase Of Love Brings Increase Of Happiness, When It Is Mutual, And Pure As That Will Be.

I Cannot Love A Man Who Cannot Protect Me.

The Bud, Though Plucked, Would Not Be Withered, Only Transplanted To A Fitter Soil To Ripen And Blow Beneath A Brighter Sun; And Though I Might Not Cherish And Watch My Child's Unfolding Intellect, He Would Be Snatched Away From All The Suffering And Sins Of Earth; And My Understanding Tells Me This Would Be No Great Evil; But My Heart Shrinks From The Contemplation Of Such A Possibility, And Whispers I Could Not Bear To See Him Die.