"But do you see the gentleman she has just addressed, perhaps with a hope to conciliate a critic:—vain hope! when the critic is made out of the remains of a disappointed poet, who finds it easier to tell people what they should read, than to produce what they will read. One would think that an unsuccessful volume was like a degree in the school of reviewing. One unread work makes the judge bitter enough; but a second failure, and he is quite desperate in his damnation. I do believe one half of the injustice—the severity of 'the ungentle craft' originates in its own want of success; they cannot forgive the popularity which has passed them over, to settle on some other; and they come to judgment on a favourite author, with a previous fund of bitterness—like an angry person, venting their rage not on the right offender, but on whoso chances to be within their reach."
"The principal remark that I have made on London society is, its tone of utter indifference. No one seems to care for another."
There was a truth to Emily in this speech that made her turn to the speaker. He was good-looking, and singularly tall.
