Austen Said:

Patterns of Diction in Jane Austen's Major Novels

Search

Your search returned 238 results



novel

sex

character_type

marriage status

class status

occupation

"if you think she will be of any use."
"that he could only allow himself time to hurry to Highbury, after breakfast, and take leave of the few friends there whom he could suppose to feel any interest in him; and that he might be expected at Hartfield very soon."
"We cannot suppose that she has any great enjoyment at the Vicarage, my dear Emma— but it is better than being always at home. Her aunt is a good creature, but, as a constant companion, must be very tiresome. We must consider what Miss Fairfax quits, before we condemn her taste for what she goes to."
"I should not wonder,"
"if Miss Fairfax were to have been drawn on beyond her own inclination, by her aunt's eagerness in accepting Mrs. Elton's civilities for her. Poor Miss Bates may very likely have committed her niece and hurried her into a greater appearance of intimacy than her own good sense would have dictated, in spite of the very natural wish of a little change."
"Why, really, dear Emma, I say that he is so very much occupied by the idea of not being in love with her, that I should not wonder if it were to end in his being so at last. Do not beat me."
"Not a walk in the rain, I should imagine."
"That is to say, you chose to have your walk, for you were not six yards from your own door when I had the pleasure of meeting you; and Henry and John had seen more drops than they could count long before. The post-office has a great charm at one period of our lives. When you have lived to my age, you will begin to think letters are never worth going through the rain for."
"Indifferent! Oh! no —I never conceived you could become indifferent. Letters are no matter of indifference; they are generally a very positive curse."
"I have often thought them the worst of the two,"
"Business, you know, may bring money, but friendship hardly ever does."
"When I talked of your being altered by time, by the progress of years,"
"I meant to imply the change of situation which time usually brings. I consider one as including the other. Time will generally lessen the interest of every attachment not within the daily circle—but that is not the change I had in view for you. As an old friend, you will allow me to hope, Miss Fairfax, that ten years hence you may have as many concentrated objects as I have."
"My advice,"
"I certainly do feel tempted to give. Miss Fairfax, you must not run such risks.—Liable as you have been to severe colds, indeed you ought to be particularly careful, especially at this time of year. The spring I always think requires more than common care. Better wait an hour or two, or even half a day for your letters, than run the risk of bringing on your cough again. Now do not you feel that you had? Yes, I am sure you are much too reasonable. You look as if you would not do such a thing again."
"It is certainly very well regulated."
"The clerks grow expert from habit.—They must begin with some quickness of sight and hand, and exercise improves them. If you want any farther explanation,"
"they are paid for it. That is the key to a great deal of capacity. The public pays and must be served well."
"I have heard it asserted,"
"that the same sort of handwriting often prevails in a family; and where the same master teaches, it is natural enough. But for that reason, I should imagine the likeness must be chiefly confined to the females, for boys have very little teaching after an early age, and scramble into any hand they can get. Isabella and Emma, I think, do write very much alike. I have not always known their writing apart."
"He chose to say
"I could not have believed it even of him."
"Well, Emma, I do not believe I have any thing more to say about the boys; but you have your sister's letter, and every thing is down at full length there we may be sure. My charge would be much more concise than her's, and probably not much in the same spirit; all that I have to recommend being comprised in, do not spoil them, and do not physic them."
"And if you find them troublesome, you must send them home again."
"I hope I am aware that they may be too noisy for your father—or even may be some encumbrance to you, if your visiting engagements continue to increase as much as they have done lately."
"Certainly; you must be sensible that the last half-year has made a great difference in your way of life."
"There can be no doubt of your being much more engaged with company than you used to be. Witness this very time. Here am I come down for only one day, and you are engaged with a dinner-party!—When did it happen before, or any thing like it? Your neighbourhood is increasing, and you mix more with it. A little while ago, every letter to Isabella brought an account of fresh gaieties; dinners at Mr. Cole's, or balls at the Crown. The difference which Randalls, Randalls alone makes in your goings-on, is very great."
"Very well— and as Randalls, I suppose, is not likely to have less influence than heretofore, it strikes me as a possible thing, Emma, that Henry and John may be sometimes in the way. And if they are, I only beg you to send them home."
"Do not you dance, Mr. Elton?"
"Me!—oh! no —I would get you a better partner than myself. I am no dancer."
"Mrs. Gilbert does not mean to dance, but there is a young lady disengaged whom I should be very glad to see dancing— — Miss Smith."
"I did not know that he ever had any such plan."
"Me! impossible!"
"Upon my word I never heard of it till this moment."
"Poor Mrs. Churchill! no doubt she had been suffering a great deal: more than any body had ever supposed—and continual pain would try the temper. It was a sad event— a great shock— with all her faults, what would Mr. Churchill do without her? Mr. Churchill's loss would be dreadful indeed. Mr. Churchill would never get over it."—
"Have you indeed no idea?"
"Cannot you, my dear Emma— cannot you form a guess as to what you are to hear?"
"You are right. It does relate to him, and I will tell you directly;"
"He has been here this very morning, on a most extraordinary errand. It is impossible to express our surprize. He came to speak to his father on a subject,—to announce an attachment—"
"More than an attachment, indeed,"
"an engagement— a positive engagement.—What will you say, Emma —what will any body say, when it is known that Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax are engaged;—nay, that they have been long engaged!"
"You may well be amazed,"
"You may well be amazed. But it is even so. There has been a solemn engagement between them ever since October— formed at Weymouth, and kept a secret from every body. Not a creature knowing it but themselves— neither the Campbells, nor her family, nor his.—It is so wonderful, that though perfectly convinced of the fact, it is yet almost incredible to myself. I can hardly believe it.—I thought I knew him."
"Engaged since October,—secretly engaged.—It has hurt me, Emma, very much. It has hurt his father equally. Some part of his conduct we cannot excuse."
"Mr. Weston will be almost as much relieved as myself,"
"On this point we have been wretched. It was our darling wish that you might be attached to each other—and we were persuaded that it was so.— Imagine what we have been feeling on your account."
"From something that he said, my dear Emma, I rather imagine —"
Emma;
he said so expressly.
He had not time to enter into much explanation. He was here only a quarter of an hour, and in a state of agitation which did not allow the full use even of the time he could stay— but