Austen Said:

Patterns of Diction in Jane Austen's Major Novels

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"to have very good sense in a common way, like every body else, and if there is any thing to say, to sit down and write a letter, and say just what you must, in a short way; and another, to write verses and charades like this."
"Such sweet lines!"
"these two last!—But how shall I ever be able to return the paper, or say I have found it out?—Oh! Miss Woodhouse, what can we do about that?"
"Oh! Miss Woodhouse, what a pity that I must not write this beautiful charade into my book! I am sure I have not got one half so good."
"Oh! but those two lines are"—
"I shall never let that book go out of my own hands,"
"Oh! no— I hope I shall not be ridiculous about it. Do as you please."
"I dare say they are, sir. I am sure I do not know who is not."
"Oh, what a sweet house!—How very beautiful!—There are the yellow curtains that Miss Nash admires so much."
"I do so wonder, Miss Woodhouse, that you should not be married, or going to be married! so charming as you are!"—
"Ah!—so you say; but I cannot believe it."
"Dear me!—it is so odd to hear a woman talk so!"—
"But then, to be an old maid at last, like Miss Bates!"
"But still, you will be an old maid! and that's so dreadful!"
"Dear me! but what shall you do? how shall you employ yourself when you grow old?"
"Do you know Miss Bates's niece? That is, I know you must have seen her a hundred times— but are you acquainted?"
"These are the sights, Harriet, to do one good. How trifling they make every thing else appear!—I feel now as if I could think of nothing but these poor creatures all the rest of the day; and yet, who can say how soon it may all vanish from my mind?"
"Very true,"
"Poor creatures! one can think of nothing else."
"Oh! dear, no,"
"Oh! dear, yes,"
"Oh yes, sir,"
"how you must miss her! And dear Emma, too!—What a dreadful loss to you both!—I have been so grieved for you.—I could not imagine how you could possibly do without her.—It is a sad change indeed.—But I hope she is pretty well, sir."
"And do you see her, sir, tolerably often?"
"Me, my love,"
"Are you talking about me?—I am sure nobody ought to be, or can be, a greater advocate for matrimony than I am; and if it had not been for the misery of her leaving Hartfield, I should never have thought of Miss Taylor but as the most fortunate woman in the world; and as to slighting Mr. Weston, that excellent Mr. Weston, I think there is nothing he does not deserve. I believe he is one of the very best-tempered men that ever existed. Excepting yourself and your brother, I do not know his equal for temper. I shall never forget his flying Henry's kite for him that very windy day last Easter—and ever since his particular kindness last September twelvemonth in
at twelve o'clock at night,
I have been convinced there could not be a more feeling heart nor a better man in existence.—If any body can deserve him, it must be Miss Taylor."
"How very pleasing and proper of him!"
"I have no doubt of his being a most amiable young man. But how sad it is that he should not live at home with his father! There is something so shocking in a child's being taken away from his parents and natural home! I never could comprehend how Mr. Weston could part with him. To give up one's child! I really never could think well of any body who proposed such a thing to any body else."
"Mr. Wingfield most strenuously recommended it, sir—or we should not have gone. He recommended it for all the children, but particularly for the weakness in little Bella's throat,—both sea air and bathing."
"Oh! good Mr. Perry— how is he, sir?"
"And Mrs. Perry and the children, how are they? do the children grow? I have a great regard for Mr. Perry. I hope he will be calling soon. He will be so pleased to see my little ones."
"Oh! my dear sir, her throat is so much better that I have hardly any uneasiness about it. Either bathing has been of the greatest service to her, or else it is to be attributed to an excellent embrocation of Mr. Wingfield's, which we have been applying at times ever since August."
"Oh! the good Bateses— I am quite ashamed of myself —but you mention them in most of your letters. I hope they are quite well. Good old Mrs. Bates— I will call upon her to-morrow, and take my children.—They are always so pleased to see my children.—And that excellent Miss Bates!—such thorough worthy people!—How are they, sir?"
"How sorry I am! But colds were never so prevalent as they have been this autumn.
Mr. Wingfield told me that
"No, I do not know that Mr. Wingfield considers it very sickly except—
"No, indeed—we are not at all in a bad air. Our part of London is very superior to most others!—You must not confound us with London in general, my dear sir. The neighbourhood of Brunswick Square is very different from almost all the rest. We are so very airy! I should be unwilling, I own, to live in any other part of the town;—there is hardly any other that I could be satisfied to have my children in: but we are so remarkably airy!—
Mr. Wingfield thinks
"I am sorry to hear you say so, sir; but I assure you, excepting those little nervous head-aches and palpitations which I am never entirely free from anywhere, I am quite well myself; and if the children were rather pale before they went to bed, it was only because they were a little more tired than usual, from their journey and the happiness of coming. I hope you will think better of their looks to-morrow; for I assure you
Mr. Wingfield told me, that
I trust, at least, that you do not think Mr. Knightley looking ill,"
"I am sorry to find, my love, that my father does not think you looking well—but I hope it is only from being a little fatigued. I could have wished, however, as you know, that you had seen Mr. Wingfield before you left home."
"That sweet, amiable Jane Fairfax!"
"It is so long since I have seen her, except now and then for a moment accidentally in town! What happiness it must be to her good old grandmother and excellent aunt, when she comes to visit them! I always regret excessively on dear Emma's account that she cannot be more at Highbury; but now their daughter is married, I suppose Colonel and Mrs. Campbell will not be able to part with her at all. She would be such a delightful companion for Emma."
"I am most happy to hear it—but only Jane Fairfax one knows to be so very accomplished and superior!—and exactly Emma's age."
"But why should you be sorry, sir?—I assure you, it did the children a great deal of good."
"I know there is such an idea with many people, but indeed it is quite a mistake, sir.—We all had our health perfectly well there, never found the least inconvenience from the mud; and
Mr. Wingfield says