Emma, I was reading a classic today and thought of you. Having never been a fan of Mr. Darcy, I can see his dilemma now firsthand. He was a man previously in command of his own being who quickly became powerless in love. The shift is immeasurably frustrating. The results, unsettling. Yet I remain a glutton for more. Why is it that authors a century gone can so easily know our modern hearts? Were some of us born in the wrong era? Or do some things simply transcend time? Forever Yours
