Austen Said:

Patterns of Diction in Jane Austen's Major Novels

Search

Your search returned 2860 results



sex

character_type

marriage status

class status

age

occupation

mode of speech

"Oh, this is beautiful indeed! This is the very thing, precisely what I wished for! This is the only ornament I have ever had a desire to possess. It will exactly suit my cross. They must and shall be worn together. It comes, too, in such an acceptable moment. Oh, cousin, you do not know how acceptable it is."
"If it had been given to me in the first instance,"
"I should not have thought of returning it; but being her brother's present, is not it fair to suppose that she would rather not part with it, when it is not wanted?"
"No, it is not handsomer, not at all handsomer in its way, and, for my purpose, not half so fit. The chain will agree with William's cross beyond all comparison better than the necklace."
"Suppose I were to find him there again to-day!"
"No, I have not been out at all."
"I am very sorry that anything has occurred to distress you. This ought to be a day of pleasure. My uncle meant it so."
"The effect of education,"
"If you only want me as a listener, cousin, I will be as useful as I can; but I am not qualified for an adviser. Do not ask advice of me. I am not competent."
"One thing more. Excuse the liberty; but take care how you talk to me. Do not tell me anything now, which hereafter you may be sorry for. The time may come—
"Yes, sir; to Mr. Crawford,"
Perhaps you can tell me why my brother goes to town to-morrow? He says he has business there, but will not tell me what. The first time he ever denied me his confidence! But this is what we all come to. All are supplanted sooner or later. Now, I must apply to you for information. Pray, what is Henry going for?"
"Well, then,"
"I must suppose it to be purely for the pleasure of conveying your brother, and of talking of you by the way."
"Oh! William."
"Oh! yes, sir,"
"I must get up and breakfast with him. It will be the last time, you know; the last morning."
"I shall have only a desolate house to hurry from. Your brother will find my ideas of time and his own very different to-morrow."
"And that makes thirty-one; four in hand and eight in crib. You are to deal, ma'am; shall I deal for you?"
"And how do you like your cousin Edmund's staying away so long? Being the only young person at home, I consider you as the greatest sufferer. You must miss him. Does his staying longer surprise you?"
"I do not know,"
"Yes; I had not particularly expected it."
"Perhaps he will always stay longer than he talks of. It is the general way all young men do."
"He did not, the only time he went to see Mr. Owen before."
"He finds the house more agreeable now. He is a very —a very pleasing young man himself, and I cannot help being rather concerned at not seeing him again before I go to London, as will now undoubtedly be the case. I am looking for Henry every day, and as soon as he comes there will be nothing to detain me at Mansfield. I should like to have seen him once more, I confess. But you must give my compliments to him. Yes; I think it must be compliments. Is not there a something wanted, Miss Price, in our language— a something between compliments and —and love— to suit the sort of friendly acquaintance we have had together? So many months' acquaintance! But compliments may be sufficient here. Was his letter a long one? Does he give you much account of what he is doing? Is it Christmas gaieties that he is staying for?"
"I only heard a part of the letter; it was to my uncle; but I believe it was very short; indeed I am sure it was but a few lines. All that I heard was that his friend had pressed him to stay longer, and that he had agreed to do so. A few days longer, or some days longer; I am not quite sure which."
"Oh! if he wrote to his father; but I thought it might have been to Lady Bertram or you. But if he wrote to his father, no wonder he was concise. Who could write chat to Sir Thomas? If he had written to you, there would have been more particulars. You would have heard of balls and parties. He would have sent you a description of everything and everybody. How many Miss Owens are there?"
"Three grown up."
"Are they musical?"
"I do not at all know. I never heard."
"That is the first question, you know,"
"which every woman who plays herself is sure to ask about another. But it is very foolish to ask questions about any young ladies— about any three sisters just grown up; for one knows, without being told, exactly what they are: all very accomplished and pleasing, and one very pretty. There is a beauty in every family; it is a regular thing. Two play on the pianoforte, and one on the harp; and all sing, or would sing if they were taught, or sing all the better for not being taught; or something like it."
"I know nothing of the Miss Owens,"
"You know nothing and you care less, as people say. Never did tone express indifference plainer. Indeed, how can one care for those one has never seen? Well, when your cousin comes back, he will find Mansfield very quiet; all the noisy ones gone, your brother and mine and myself. I do not like the idea of leaving Mrs. Grant now the time draws near. She does not like my going."
"You cannot doubt your being missed by many,"
"You will be very much missed."
"Oh yes! missed as every noisy evil is missed when it is taken away; that is, there is a great difference felt. But I am not fishing; don't compliment me. If I am missed, it will appear. I may be discovered by those who want to see me. I shall not be in any doubtful, or distant, or unapproachable region."
"The Miss Owens,"
"suppose you were to have one of the Miss Owens settled at Thornton Lacey; how should you like it? Stranger things have happened. I dare say they are trying for it. And they are quite in the light, for it would be a very pretty establishment for them. I do not at all wonder or blame them. It is everybody's duty to do as well for themselves as they can. Sir Thomas Bertram's son is somebody; and now he is in their own line. Their father is a clergyman, and their brother is a clergyman, and they are all clergymen together. He is their lawful property; he fairly belongs to them. You don't speak, Fanny; Miss Price, you don't speak. But honestly now, do not you rather expect it than otherwise?"
"No,"
"I do not expect it at all."
"Not at all!"
"I wonder at that. But I dare say you know exactly— I always imagine you are —perhaps you do not think him likely to marry at all —or not at present."
"No, I do not,"
"He is best off as he is,"
"My dear Henry, where can you have been all this time?"
"Sitting with them an hour and a half!"
"Lucky, lucky girl!"
"what a match for her! My dearest Henry, this must be my first feeling; but my second, which you shall have as sincerely, is, that I approve your choice from my soul, and foresee your happiness as heartily as I wish and desire it. You will have a sweet little wife; all gratitude and devotion. Exactly what you deserve. What an amazing match for her! Mrs. Norris often talks of her luck; what will she say now? The delight of all the family, indeed! And she has some true friends in it! How they will rejoice! But tell me all about it! Talk to me for ever. When did you begin to think seriously about her?"
"Ah, my dear Henry, and this is what took you to London! This was your business! You chose to consult the Admiral before you made up your mind."