Austen Said:

Patterns of Diction in Jane Austen's Major Novels

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“What sort of girl is Miss Darcy?”
“I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr. Bingley! How can Mr. Bingley, who seems good humour itself, and is, I really believe, truly amiable, be in friendship with such a man? How can they suit each other? Do you know Mr. Bingley?”
“He is a sweet-tempered, amiable, charming man. He cannot know what Mr. Darcy is.”
“Lady Catherine de Bourgh,”
“has very lately given him a living. I hardly know how Mr. Collins was first introduced to her notice, but he certainly has not known her long.”
“No, indeed, I did not. I knew nothing at all of Lady Catherine's connections. I never heard of her existence till the day before yesterday.”
“Mr. Collins,”
“speaks highly both of Lady Catherine and her daughter; but from some particulars that he has related of her ladyship, I suspect his gratitude misleads him, and that in spite of her being his patroness, she is an arrogant, conceited woman.”
“Very true, indeed; and now, my dear Jane, what have you got to say on behalf of the interested people who have probably been concerned in the business? Do clear them too, or we shall be obliged to think ill of somebody.”
“I can much more easily believe Mr. Bingley's being imposed on, than that Mr. Wickham should invent such a history of himself as he gave me last night; names, facts, everything mentioned without ceremony. If it be not so, let Mr. Darcy contradict it. Besides, there was truth in his looks.”
“I beg your pardon; one knows exactly what to think.”
“Heaven forbid! That would be the greatest misfortune of all!— To find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! Do not wish me such an evil.”
“It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some sort of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples.”
“Very well. That reply will do for the present. Perhaps by and by I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. But now we may be silent.”
“Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together; and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged, as that they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible.”
“Both,”
“for I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the eclat of a proverb.”
“I must not decide on my own performance.”
“When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance.”
“He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship,”
“and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life.”
“I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have interrupted any two people in the room who had less to say for themselves. We have tried two or three subjects already without success, and what we are to talk of next I cannot imagine.”
“Books — oh! no. I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings.”
“No — I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full of something else.”
“Yes, always,”
“I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that
that
You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created .”
“And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?”
“It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first.”
“Merely to the illustration of your character,”
“I am trying to make it out.”
“I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.”
“But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity.”
“His guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the same,”
“for I have heard you accuse him of nothing worse than of being the son of Mr. Darcy's steward, and of that, I can assure you, he informed me himself.”
“Excuse my interference — It was kindly meant.”
“Insolent girl!”
“You are much mistaken if you expect to influence me by such a paltry attack as this. I see nothing in it but your own wilful ignorance and the malice of Mr. Darcy.”
“I want to know,”
“what you have learnt about Mr. Wickham. But perhaps you have been too pleasantly engaged to think of any third person; in which case you may be sure of my pardon.”
“Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham himself?”
“This account then is what he has received from Mr. Darcy. I am satisfied. But what does he say of the living?”
“I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley's sincerity,”
“but you must excuse my not being convinced by assurances only. Mr. Bingley's defense of his friend was a very able one I dare say; but since he is unacquainted with several parts of the story, and has learnt the rest from that friend himself, I shall venture to still think of both gentlemen as I did before.”
“You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy!”
“For heaven's sake, madam, speak lower. What advantage can it be for you to offend Mr. Darcy? You will never recommend yourself to his friend by so doing!”
“Dear madam, do not go. I beg you will not go. Mr. Collins must excuse me. He can have nothing to say to me that anybody need not hear. I am going away myself.”
“You are too hasty, sir,”
“You forget that I have made no answer. Let me do it without further loss of time Accept my thanks for the compliment you are paying me. I am very sensible of the honour of your proposals, but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than to decline them.”