20
" She supposed, a little sadly, that her temperament just wasn't designed to believe that nothing mattered in the world besides romantic love. Try as she might, she just couldn't convince herself that the world was well lost for love, or that a penniless life in a garret meant bliss as long as love was a substitute for warmth or food. Sometimes over the years she had looked at Marianne and envied her ability to abandon herself almost ecstatically to music, or place, or literature or -- as so intensely in the present case -- to love. It must be extraordinary, Elinor thought, to be able to surrender oneself so completely, not just because it would feel exhilarating but also because it meant that one was -- oh, how unlike me, Elinor thought regretfully -- able to trust. Marianne could trust. She trusted her instincts; she trusted those dear to her; she trusted her emotions and her passions. She drank deep, you could see that.; she squeezed every drop of living out of all the elements that mattered to her. It made her careless sometimes, of course it did, but it was a wonderfully rich and rapt way to be. "
― Joanna Trollope , Sense & Sensibility