Jane Austen Quotes
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The Webbs are really gone! When I saw the waggons at the door, and thought of all the trouble they must have in moving, I began to reproach myself for not having liked them better, but since the waggons have disappeared my conscience has been closed again, and I am excessively glad they are gone.
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It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples.
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Yet there it was not love. It was a little fever of admiration; but it might, probably must, end in love with some...
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The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it.
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Laugh as much as you choose, but you will not laugh me out of my opinion.
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The more I see of the world, the more am i dissatisfied with it; and everyday confirms my belief of the inconsistencies of all human.
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I cannot help thinking that it is more natural to have flowers grow out of the head than fruit.
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I wrote without much effort; for I was rich, and the rich are always respectable, whatever be their style of writing.
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We do not suffer by accident.
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I always deserve the best treatment because I never put up with any other.
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She was stronger alone.
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What one means one day, you know, one may not mean the next. Circumstances change, opinions alter.
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One cannot fix one's eyes on the commonest natural production without finding food for a rambling fancy.
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To be claimed as a good, though in an improper style, is at least better than being rejected as no good at all.
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One has not great hopes from Birmingham. I always say there is something direful in the sound...
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Anne hoped she had outlived the age of blushing; but the age of emotion she certainly had not.
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We are all fools in love.
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She wished such words unsaid with all her heart...
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Her pleasure in the walk must arise from the exercise and the day, from the view of the last smiles of the year upon the tawny leaves and withered hedges, and from repeating to herself some few of the thousand poetical descriptions extant of autumn-that season of peculiar and inexhaustible influence on the mind of taste and tenderness-that season which has drawn from every poet worthy of being read some attempt at description, or some lines of feeling.
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When I look out on such a night as this, I feel as if there could be neither wickedness nor sorrow in the world; and there certainly would be less of both if the sublimity of Nature were more attended to, and people were carried more out of themselves by contemplating such a scene.
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'My fingers,' said Elizabeth, 'do not move over this instrument in the masterly manner which I see so many woman's do. They have not the same force of rapidity and do not possess the same expression. But then I have always supposed it to be my own fault - because I would not take the trouble of practicing. It is not that I do not believe my fingers as capable as any other woman's of superior execution.' Darcy smiled and said, 'You are perfectly right.'
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... But he recommended the books which charmed her leisure hours, he encouraged her taste, and corrected her judgment; he made reading useful by talking to her of what she read, and heightened its attraction by judicious praise.
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Her mind was all disorder. The past, present, future, every thing was terrible.
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A man always imagines a woman to be ready for anybody who asks her.