Austen Said:

Patterns of Diction in Jane Austen's Major Novels


Your search returned 402 results




marriage status

class status


speaker name

“I do not care. Mr. Thorpe had no business to invent any such message. If I had thought it right to put it off, I could have spoken to Miss Tilney myself. This is only doing it in a ruder way; and how do I know that Mr. Thorpe has — He may be mistaken again perhaps; he led me into one act of rudeness by his mistake on Friday. Let me go, Mr. Thorpe; Isabella, do not hold me.”
“Then I will go after them,”
“wherever they are I will go after them. It does not signify talking. If I could not be persuaded into doing what I thought wrong, I never will be tricked into it.”
“I am come in a great hurry — It was all a mistake — I never promised to go — I told them from the first I could not go. — I ran away in a great hurry to explain it. — I did not care what you thought of me. — I would not stay for the servant.”
“No; I had just engaged myself to walk with Miss Tilney before they told me of it; and therefore you know I could not go with them, could I?”
“Dear madam,”
“then why did not you tell me so before? I am sure if I had known it to be improper, I would not have gone with Mr. Thorpe at all; but I always hoped you would tell me, if you thought I was doing wrong.”
“But this was something of real consequence; and I do not think you would have found me hard to persuade.”
“I never look at it,”
“without thinking of the south of France.”
“Oh! No, I only mean what I have read about. It always puts me in mind of the country that Emily and her father travelled through, in The Mysteries of Udolpho. But you never read novels, I dare say?”
“Because they are not clever enough for you — gentlemen read better books.”
“I am very glad to hear it indeed, and now I shall never be ashamed of liking Udolpho myself. But I really thought before, young men despised novels amazingly.”
“Not very good, I am afraid. But now really, do not you think Udolpho the nicest book in the world?”
“I am sure,”
“I did not mean to say anything wrong; but it is a nice book, and why should not I call it so?”
“To say the truth, I do not much like any other.”
“That is, I can read poetry and plays, and things of that sort, and do not dislike travels. But history, real solemn history, I cannot be interested in. Can you?”
“I wish I were too. I read it a little as a duty, but it tells me nothing that does not either vex or weary me. The quarrels of popes and kings, with wars or pestilences, in every page; the men all so good for nothing, and hardly any women at all — it is very tiresome: and yet I often think it odd that it should be so dull, for a great deal of it must be invention. The speeches that are put into the heroes’ mouths, their thoughts and designs — the chief of all this must be invention, and invention is what delights me in other books.”
“You are fond of history! And so are Mr. Allen and my father; and I have two brothers who do not dislike it. So many instances within my small circle of friends is remarkable! At this rate, I shall not pity the writers of history any longer. If people like to read their books, it is all very well, but to be at so much trouble in filling great volumes, which, as I used to think, nobody would willingly ever look into, to be labouring only for the torment of little boys and girls, always struck me as a hard fate; and though I know it is all very right and necessary, I have often wondered at the person’s courage that could sit down on purpose to do it.”
“You think me foolish to call instruction a torment, but if you had been as much used as myself to hear poor little children first learning their letters and then learning to spell, if you had ever seen how stupid they can be for a whole morning together, and how tired my poor mother is at the end of it, as I am in the habit of seeing almost every day of my life at home, you would allow that ‘to torment’ and ‘to instruct’ might sometimes be used as synonymous words.”
“I have heard that something very shocking indeed will soon come out in London.”
“That I do not know, nor who is the author. I have only heard that it is to be more horrible than anything we have met with yet.”
“A particular friend of mine had an account of it in a letter from London yesterday. It is to be uncommonly dreadful. I shall expect murder and everything of the kind.”
“Riot! What riot?”
“I wish you could have gone too. It is a pity you could not all go.”
“Good heaven! My dear Isabella, what do you mean? Can you — can you really be in love with James?”
“It is impossible,”
“for parents to be more kind, or more desirous of their children’s happiness; I have no doubt of their consenting immediately.”
“Indeed, Isabella, you are too humble. The difference of fortune can be nothing to signify.”
“I am sure they will consent,”
“I am sure they will be delighted with you.”
“You must settle near Fullerton. You must be near us.”
“Shall not you be late at Devizes?”
“I am sure I think it a very good one.”
“Yes; I have promised your sister to be with her, if possible.”
“May we? But I never sing. Well, I wish you a good journey. I dine with Miss Tilney today, and must now be going home.”
“Then why do you stay away so long?”
“Oh! dear, there are a great many people like me, I dare say, only a great deal better. Good morning to you.”
“Pray do. My father and mother will be very glad to see you.”
“Oh! dear, not at all. There are very few people I am sorry to see. Company is always cheerful.”
“Perhaps we may; but it is more than I ever thought of. And as to most matters, to say the truth, there are not many that I know my own mind about.”
“Very true. I think like you there. If there is a good fortune on one side, there can be no occasion for any on the other. No matter which has it, so that there is enough. I hate the idea of one great fortune looking out for another. And to marry for money I think the wickedest thing in existence. Good day. We shall be very glad to see you at Fullerton, whenever it is convenient.”
“But it was not so bad as that, Isabella; there was no superciliousness; she was very civil.”
“I do not say so; but he did not seem in good spirits.”
“Unworthy! I do not suppose he ever thinks of me.”
“But as for General Tilney, I assure you it would be impossible for anybody to behave to me with greater civility and attention; it seemed to be his only care to entertain and make me happy.”
“Well, I shall see how they behave to me this evening; we shall meet them at the rooms.”
“Do not you intend it? I thought it was all settled.”