“There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense.”
“...the more I know of the world, the more I am convinced that I shall never see a man whom I can really love.”
“Mama, the more I know of the world, the more I am convinced that I shall never see a man whom I can really love.”
“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!”
“The more I see of the world, the more I am dissatisfied with it.”
“The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it.”