Austen Said:

Patterns of Diction in Jane Austen's Major Novels

Search

Your search returned 325 results



novel

sex

character_type

marriage status

class status

age

speaker name

"No —Mrs. Knightley;—and till she is in being, I will manage such matters myself."
"You certainly will meet them if I can prevail; and I shall call on Miss Bates in my way home."
"Not quite. My idea of the simple and the natural will be to have the table spread in the dining-room. The nature and the simplicity of gentlemen and ladies, with their servants and furniture, I think is best observed by meals within doors. When you are tired of eating strawberries in the garden, there shall be cold meat in the house."
"I have not the least wish for it, I thank you."
"I will answer for it, that mine thinks herself full as clever, and would spurn any body's assistance."
"You will not find either, between Donwell and Highbury. Donwell Lane is never dusty, and now it is perfectly dry. Come on a donkey, however, if you prefer it. You can borrow Mrs. Cole's. I would wish every thing to be as much to your taste as possible."
"These are my own concerns. I have a right to talk on such subjects, without being suspected of introducing Robert Martin."—
"Is Miss Woodhouse sure that she would like to hear what we are all thinking of?"
"This explains the sort of clever thing that is wanted, and Mr. Weston has done very well for himself; but he must have knocked up every body else. Perfection should not have come quite so soon."
"Emma, I must once more speak to you as I have been used to do: a privilege rather endured than allowed, perhaps, but I must still use it. I cannot see you acting wrong, without a remonstrance. How could you be so unfeeling to Miss Bates? How could you be so insolent in your wit to a woman of her character, age, and situation?—Emma, I had not thought it possible."
"I assure you she did. She felt your full meaning. She has talked of it since.
I wish you could have heard
"They are blended,"
"I acknowledge; and, were she prosperous, I could allow much for the occasional prevalence of the ridiculous over the good. Were she a woman of fortune, I would leave every harmless absurdity to take its chance, I would not quarrel with you for any liberties of manner. Were she your equal in situation —but, Emma, consider how far this is from being the case. She is poor; she has sunk from the comforts she was born to; and, if she live to old age, must probably sink more. Her situation should secure your compassion. It was badly done, indeed! You, whom she had known from an infant, whom she had seen grow up from a period when her notice was an honour, to have you now, in thoughtless spirits, and the pride of the moment, laugh at her, humble her— and before her niece, too —and before others, many of whom (certainly some,) would be entirely guided by your treatment of her.—This is not pleasant to you, Emma—and it is very far from pleasant to me; but I must, I will,—I will tell you truths while I can; satisfied with proving myself your friend by very faithful counsel, and trusting that you will some time or other do me greater justice than you can do now."
"I would not go away without seeing you, but I have no time to spare, and therefore must now be gone directly. I am going to London, to spend a few days with John and Isabella. Have you any thing to send or say, besides the 'love,' which nobody carries?"
"Yes— rather —I have been thinking of it some little time."
"Emma, you have been no friend to Harriet Smith."—
"He had just looked into the dining-room, and as he was not wanted there, preferred being out of doors."—
"Have I?"
"of what nature?"
"If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that already."
"I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened."
"Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.—Your own excellent sense— your exertions for your father's sake— I know you will not allow yourself—."
"The feelings of the warmest friendship— Indignation— Abominable scoundrel!"—
"He will soon be gone. They will soon be in Yorkshire. I am sorry for her. She deserves a better fate."
"Emma!"
"are you, indeed?"—
"No, no, I understand you —forgive me —I am pleased that you can say even so much.—He is no object of regret, indeed! and it will not be very long, I hope, before that becomes the acknowledgment of more than your reason.—Fortunate that your affections were not farther entangled!—I could never, I confess, from your manners, assure myself as to the degree of what you felt— I could only be certain that there was a preference— and a preference which I never believed him to deserve.—He is a disgrace to the name of man.—And is he to be rewarded with that sweet young woman?—Jane, Jane, you will be a miserable creature."
"I have never had a high opinion of Frank Churchill.—I can suppose, however, that I may have underrated him. My acquaintance with him has been but trifling.—And even if I have not underrated him hitherto, he may yet turn out well.—With such a woman he has a chance.—I have no motive for wishing him ill—and for her sake, whose happiness will be involved in his good character and conduct, I shall certainly wish him well."
"He is a most fortunate man!"
"So early in life— at three-and-twenty —a period when, if a man chuses a wife, he generally chuses ill. At three-and-twenty to have drawn such a prize! What years of felicity that man, in all human calculation, has before him!—Assured of the love of such a woman —the disinterested love, for Jane Fairfax's character vouches for her disinterestedness; every thing in his favour,—equality of situation—I mean, as far as regards society, and all the habits and manners that are important; equality in every point but one— and that one, since the purity of her heart is not to be doubted, such as must increase his felicity, for it will be his to bestow the only advantages she wants.—A man would always wish to give a woman a better home than the one he takes her from; and he who can do it, where there is no doubt of her regard, must, I think, be the happiest of mortals.—Frank Churchill is, indeed, the favourite of fortune. Every thing turns out for his good.—He meets with a young woman at a watering-place, gains her affection, cannot even weary her by negligent treatment—and had he and all his family sought round the world for a perfect wife for him, they could not have found her superior.—His aunt is in the way.—His aunt dies.—He has only to speak.—His friends are eager to promote his happiness.—He had used every body ill—and they are all delighted to forgive him.—He is a fortunate man indeed!"
"And I do envy him, Emma. In one respect he is the object of my envy."
"You will not ask me what is the point of envy.—You are determined, I see, to have no curiosity.—You are wise—but I cannot be wise. Emma, I must tell you what you will not ask, though I may wish it unsaid the next moment."
"Thank you,"
"You are going in, I suppose?"
"As a friend!"—
"Emma, that I fear is a word— No, I have no wish— Stay, yes, why should I hesitate?—I have gone too far already for concealment.—Emma, I accept your offer— Extraordinary as it may seem, I accept it, and refer myself to you as a friend.—Tell me, then, have I no chance of ever succeeding?"
"My dearest Emma,"
"for dearest you will always be, whatever the event of this hour's conversation, my dearest, most beloved Emma— tell me at once. Say 'No,' if it is to be said."—
"You are silent,"
"absolutely silent! at present I ask no more."
"I cannot make speeches, Emma:"
"If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am.—You hear nothing but truth from me.—I have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it.—Bear with the truths I would tell you now, dearest Emma, as well as you have borne with them. The manner, perhaps, may have as little to recommend them. God knows, I have been a very indifferent lover.—But you understand me.—Yes, you see, you understand my feelings—and will return them if you can. At present, I ask only to hear, once to hear your voice."
"I shall be very glad to look it over,"
"but it seems long. I will take it home with me at night."
"I would rather be talking to you,"
"but as it seems a matter of justice, it shall be done."
"Had I been offered the sight of one of this gentleman's letters to his mother-in-law a few months ago, Emma, it would not have been taken with such indifference."
"Humph! a fine complimentary opening: But it is his way. One man's style must not be the rule of another's. We will not be severe."
"It will be natural for me,"