May It Not Be So

Often I have an Austen in the works. Presently I am reading "Pride and Prejudice." I will not revisit my faults confessed elsewhere but on reading of Mr. Bennet's being a negligent and dilatory correspondent I could not help but apply the phrase to myself and hope others had not thought the same.
"His family knew him to be, on all common occasions, a most negligent and dilatory correspondent; but at such a time they had hoped for exertion."
I love Jane's way with words, even when they bring conviction. The next line represents something I wish we could get back to but know will never be.
"The arrival of letters was the grand object of every morning's impatience. Through letters, whatever of good or bad was to be told would be communicated, and every succeeding day was expected to bring some news of importance."
It's not that we've overcome patience, it's that we no longer write. We communicate in many other ways but what have we lost for the sake of efficiency? The one word that comes to mind is "connection." Tangible connection has been lost. Pity.

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