Austen Said:

Patterns of Diction in Jane Austen's Major Novels

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“I beg your pardon; one knows exactly what to think.”
Mr. Bingley, if he had been imposed on, would have much to suffer when the affair became public.
she had no disinclination for it.
“While I can have my mornings to myself,” said she, “it is enough — I think it is no sacrifice to join occasionally in evening engagements. Society has claims on us all; and I profess myself one of those who consider intervals of recreation and amusement as desirable for everybody.”
whether he intended to accept Mr. Bingley's invitation, and if he did, whether he would think it proper to join in the evening's amusement;
to have Mr. Collins instead!
she was selected from among her sisters as worthy of being the mistress of Hunsford Parsonage, and of assisting to form a quadrille table at Rosings, in the absence of more eligible visitors.
Mr. Collins might never make the offer, and till he did, it was useless to quarrel about him.
his being purposely omitted for Mr. Darcy's pleasure in the Bingleys' invitation to the officers;
“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.”
their silence was to last through the two dances,
it would be the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk,
“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.”
whatever she wished him to say should be said.
“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.”
“Do you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing?”
“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.”
“Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?”
“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.”
“This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure,”
“How near it may be to mine , I cannot pretend to say .— You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly.”
“I must not decide on my own performance.”
if she and her sisters did not very often walk to Meryton.
“When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance.”
“Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends — whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain.”
“He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship,”
“and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life.”
“Sir William's interruption has made me forget what we were talking of.”
“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.”
“What think you of books?”
“Books — oh! no. I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings.”
“I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be no want of subject. We may compare our different opinions.”
“No — I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full of something else.”
“The present always occupies you in such scenes — does it?”
“Yes, always,”
“I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that
that
You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created .”
“I am,”
“And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?”
“I hope not.”
“It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first.”
“May I ask to what these questions tend?”
“Merely to the illustration of your character,”
“I am trying to make it out.”
“And what is your success?”
“I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.”
“I can readily believe,”
“that reports may vary greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either.”