I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as these." - Mr. Darcy
Respect for right conduct is felt by every body.
Faultless in spite of all her faults.
... strange things may be generally accounted for if their cause be fairly seached out.
I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends.
You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.
I have changed my mind, and changed the trimmings of my cap this morning; they are now such as you suggested.
She tried to explain the real state of the case to her sister. "I do not attempt to deny," said she, "that I think very highly of him--that I greatly esteem, that I like him." Marianne here burst with forth with indignation: "Esteem him! Like him! Cold-hearted Elinor. Oh! worse than cold-hearted! Ashamed of being otherwise. Use those words again, and I will leave the room this moment." Elinor could not help laughing. "Excuse me," said she, "and be assured that I meant no offence to you, by speaking, in so quiet a way, of my own feelings.
I think him every thing that is worthy and amiable.
Eleanor went to her room "where she was free to think and be wretched.
This sweetest and best of all creatures, faultless in spite of all her faults.
It will, I believe, be everywhere found, that as the clergy are, or are not what they ought to be, so are the rest of the nation.
The publicis rather apt to be unreasonably discontented when a woman does marry again, than when she does not.
All the privilege I claim for my own sex ... is that of loving longest, when existence or hope is gone.
Evil to some is always good to others
Catherine had never wanted comfort more, and he [Henry] looked as if he was aware of it.
Mr. Collins is a conceited, pompous, narrow-minded, silly man; you know he is, as well as I do; and you must feel, as well as I do, that the woman who married him cannot have a proper way of thinking.
A very short trial convinced her that a curricle was the prettiest equipage in the world.
“It is not everyone,” said Elinor, “who has your passion for dead leaves.”
But are they all horrid, are you sure they are all horrid? [Referring to Gothic novels, fashionable in England at the beginning of the 19th century, but frowned upon in polite society.]
Time, time will heal the wound.
She went, however, and they sauntered about together many a half hour in Mr. Grant's shrubbery, the weather being unusually mild for the time of year, and venturing sometimes even to sit down on one of the benches now comparatively unsheltered, remaining there perhaps till, in the midst of some tender ejaculation of Fanny's on the sweets of so protracted an autumn, they were forced by the sudden swell of a cold gust shaking down the last few yellow leaves about them, to jump up and walk for warmth.
Vanity was the beginning and the end of Sir Walter Elliot's character; vanity of person and of situation.
A man always imagines a woman to be ready for anybody who asks her.
There is something in the eloquence of the pulpit, when it is really eloquence, which is entitled to the highest praise and honour. The preacher who can touch and affect such an heterogeneous mass of hearers, on subjects limited, and long worn thread-bare in all common hands; who can say any thing new or striking, any thing that rouses the attention, without offending the taste, or wearing out the feelings of his hearers, is a man whom one could not (in his public capacity) honour enough.
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