Austen Said:

"Nay, Edward,"

"you need not reproach me. You are not very gay yourself."

"Nor do I think it a part of Marianne's,"

"I should hardly call her a lively girl — she is very earnest, very eager in all she does — sometimes talks a great deal and always with animation — but she is not often really merry."

"I have frequently detected myself in such kind of mistakes,"

"in a total misapprehension of character in some point or other: fancying people so much more gay or grave, or ingenious or stupid than they really are, and I can hardly tell why or in what the deception originated. Sometimes one is guided by what they say of themselves, and very frequently by what other people say of them, without giving oneself time to deliberate and judge."

"But I thought it was right, Elinor,"

"to be guided wholly by the opinion of other people. I thought our judgments were given us merely to be subservient to those of neighbours. This has always been your doctrine, I am sure."

"No, Marianne, never. My doctrine has never aimed at the subjection of the understanding. All I have ever attempted to influence has been the behaviour. You must not confound my meaning. I am guilty, I confess, of having often wished you to treat our acquaintance in general with greater attention; but when have I advised you to adopt their sentiments or to conform to their judgment in serious matters?"

"Quite the contrary,"

"Marianne has not shyness to excuse any inattention of hers,"

"But you would still be reserved,"

"and that is worse."

"Yes, very."

"Do not you know my sister well enough to understand what she means? Do not you know she calls every one reserved who does not talk as fast, and admire what she admires as rapturously as herself?"

"I am afraid it is but too true,"

"but why should you boast of it?"

"I suspect,"

"that to avoid one kind of affectation, Edward here falls into another. Because he believes many people pretend to more admiration of the beauties of nature than they really feel, and is disgusted with such pretensions, he affects greater indifference and less discrimination in viewing them himself than he possesses. He is fastidious and will have an affectation of his own."

"It is very true,"

"that admiration of landscape scenery is become a mere jargon. Every body pretends to feel and tries to describe with the taste and elegance of him who first defined what picturesque beauty was. I detest jargon of every kind, and sometimes I have kept my feelings to myself, because I could find no language to describe them in but what was worn and hackneyed out of all sense and meaning."

"I never saw you wear a ring before, Edward,"

"Is that Fanny's hair? I remember her promising to give you some. But I should have thought her hair had been darker."

"And who knows but you may raise a dance,"

"And that will tempt YOU, Miss Marianne."

"A dance!"

"Impossible! Who is to dance?"

"Who! why yourselves, and the Careys, and Whitakers to be sure. — What! you thought nobody could dance because a certain person that shall be nameless is gone!"

"What do you mean?"

"Certainly."

"Oh, Edward! How can you? — But the time will come I hope...I am sure you will like him."

"I think, Edward,"

"you would be a happier man if you had any profession to engage your time and give an interest to your plans and actions. Some inconvenience to your friends, indeed, might result from it — you would not be able to give them so much of your time. But

you would be materially benefited in one particular at least — you would know where to go when you left them."

"The consequence of which, I suppose, will be,"

"since leisure has not promoted your own happiness, that your sons will be brought up to as many pursuits, employments, professions, and trades as Columella's."

"Come, come; this is all an effusion of immediate want of spirits, Edward. You are in a melancholy humour, and fancy that any one unlike yourself must be happy. But remember that the pain of parting from friends will be felt by every body at times, whatever be their education or state. Know your own happiness. You want nothing but patience — or give it a more fascinating name, call it hope. Your mother will secure to you, in time, that independence you are so anxious for; it is her duty, and it will, it must ere long become her happiness to prevent your whole youth from being wasted in discontent. How much may not a few months do?"

with strong affections it was impossible, with calm ones it could have no merit.

"Hush! they will hear you."

"She is walking, I believe."

"How do you do, my dear? How does Mrs. Dashwood do? And where are your sisters? What! all alone! you will be glad of a little company to sit with you. I have brought my other son and daughter to see you. Only think of their coming so suddenly! I thought I heard a carriage last night, while we were drinking our tea, but it never entered my head that it could be them. I thought of nothing but whether it might not be Colonel Brandon come back again; so I said to Sir John, I do think I hear a carriage; perhaps it is Colonel Brandon come back again" —

"Well! what a delightful room this is! I never saw anything so charming! Only think, Mama, how it is improved since I was here last! I always thought it such a sweet place, ma'am!

but you have made it so charming! Only look, sister, how delightful every thing is! How I should like such a house for myself! Should not you, Mr. Palmer?"

"Mr. Palmer does not hear me,"

"he never does sometimes. It is so ridiculous!"

"You may believe how glad we all were to see them,"

"but, however, I can't help wishing they had not travelled quite so fast, nor made such a long journey of it, for they came all round by London upon account of some business, for you know

it was wrong in her situation. I wanted her to stay at home and rest this morning, but she would come with us; she longed so much to see you all!"

it would not do her any harm.

"She expects to be confined in February,"