Had you seen me, I surely would have moved your pity. When alone, in agonies would I lay down the Book, take it up again, walk about the room, let fall a flood of tears, wipe my eyes, read again, perhaps not three lines, throw away the book, crying out, excuse me, good Mr Richardson, I cannot go on; it is your fault—you have done more than I can bear.
— Lady Bradshaigh to Samuel Richardson, regarding Clarissa; or, what “LIFE RUINER asdkfjkdjfalds” sounds like from an 18th-century fanlady. (via theodoradove)
