Austen Said:

Patterns of Diction in Jane Austen's Major Novels

Search

Your search returned 2389 results



novel

sex

character_type

marriage status

class status

age

occupation

mode of speech

"I remember once calling you 'George,' in one of my amiable fits, about ten years ago. I did it because I thought it would offend you; but, as you made no objection, I never did it again."
"And cannot you call me 'George' now?"
"Impossible!—I never can call you any thing but 'Mr. Knightley.' I will not promise even to equal the elegant terseness of Mrs. Elton, by calling you Mr. K.—But I will promise,"
"I will promise to call you once by your Christian name. I do not say when, but perhaps you may guess where;—in the building in which N. takes M. for better, for worse."
"John does not even mention your friend,"
"Here is his answer, if you like to see it."
"John enters like a brother into my happiness,"
"but he is no complimenter; and though I well know him to have, likewise, a most brotherly affection for you, he is so far from making flourishes, that any other young woman might think him rather cool in her praise. But I am not afraid of your seeing what he writes."
"He writes like a sensible man,"
"I honour his sincerity. It is very plain that he considers the good fortune of the engagement as all on my side, but that he is not without hope of my growing, in time, as worthy of your affection, as you think me already. Had he said any thing to bear a different construction, I should not have believed him."
"My Emma, he means no such thing. He only means — —"
"He and I should differ very little in our estimation of the two,"
"much less, perhaps, than he is aware of, if we could enter without ceremony or reserve on the subject."
"Emma, my dear Emma—"
"Oh!"
"if you fancy your brother does not do me justice, only wait till my dear father is in the secret, and hear his opinion. Depend upon it, he will be much farther from doing you justice. He will think all the happiness, all the advantage, on your side of the question; all the merit on mine. I wish I may not sink into 'poor Emma' with him at once.—His tender compassion towards oppressed worth can go no farther."
"Ah!"
"I wish your father might be half as easily convinced as John will be, of our having every right that equal worth can give, to be happy together. I am amused by one part of John's letter— — did you notice it?—where he says, that my information did not take him wholly by surprize, that he was rather in expectation of hearing something of the kind."
"If I understand your brother, he only means so far as your having some thoughts of marrying. He had no idea of me. He seems perfectly unprepared for that."
"Yes, yes—but I am amused that he should have seen so far into my feelings. What has he been judging by?—I am not conscious of any difference in my spirits or conversation that could prepare him at this time for my marrying any more than at another.—But it was so, I suppose. I dare say there was a difference when I was staying with them the other day. I believe I did not play with the children quite so much as usual. I remember one evening the poor boys saying, 'Uncle seems always tired now.'"
"the young lady's pride would now be contented;"
"she had always meant to catch Knightley if she could;"
"Rather he than I!"—
"Poor Knightley! poor fellow!—sad business for him."—
"I have something to tell you, Emma; some news."
"Good or bad?"
"I do not know which it ought to be called."
"Oh! good I am sure.—I see it in your countenance. You are trying not to smile."
"I am afraid,"
"I am very much afraid, my dear Emma, that you will not smile when you hear it."
"Indeed! but why so?—I can hardly imagine that any thing which pleases or amuses you, should not please and amuse me too."
"There is one subject,"
"I hope but one, on which we do not think alike."
"Does nothing occur to you?—Do not you recollect?—Harriet Smith."
"Have you heard from her yourself this morning?"
"You have, I believe, and know the whole."
"No, I have not; I know nothing; pray tell me."
"You are prepared for the worst, I see— and very bad it is. Harriet Smith marries Robert Martin."
"It is so, indeed,"
"I have it from Robert Martin himself. He left me not half an hour ago."
"You like it, my Emma, as little as I feared.—I wish our opinions were the same. But in time they will. Time, you may be sure, will make one or the other of us think differently; and, in the meanwhile, we need not talk much on the subject."
"You mistake me, you quite mistake me,"
"It is not that such a circumstance would now make me unhappy, but I cannot believe it. It seems an impossibility!—You cannot mean to say, that Harriet Smith has accepted Robert Martin. You cannot mean that he has even proposed to her again— yet. You only mean, that he intends it."
"I mean that he has done it,"
"and been accepted."
"Good God!"
"Well!"—
"Well, now tell me every thing; make this intelligible to me. How, where, when?—Let me know it all. I never was more surprized—but it does not make me unhappy, I assure you.—How —how has it been possible?"
"It is a very simple story. He went to town on business three days ago, and I got him to take charge of some papers which I was wanting to send to John.—He delivered these papers to John, at his chambers, and was
asked by him