Best 107 quotes in «pride and prejudice quotes» category

Always remember to preserve your pride no matter what. Take pride in yourself and our family name. Never show weakness. Never admit failure..

Ah yes.' Peter's tone was scornful. 'And they must always be paid before the poor tradesmen's bills, mustn't they?' 'They must indeed. They are debts of honour.' 'Oh, Mary.' He leant over and kissed me quickly. 'What a lot we'll have to argue about after we're married.

An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents.

After a moment, he added more seriously: 'I don't get as angry as m'father used to about things. Or maybe I', just better at hiding m'feelings.' 'I fear I'm not very good at hiding my feelings.' He covered my hand with his own. 'That's what I like about you. I liked it from the first. You're so different from the others.

And so ended his affection," said Elizabeth impatiently. "There has been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!" "I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love," said Darcy.

At that moment a solitary violin struck up. But the music was not dance music; it was more like a song - a solemn, sweet song. (I know now that it was Beethoven's Romance in F.) I listened, and suddenly it was as if the fog that surrounded me had been penetrated, as if I were being spoken to.

As soon as they had exited Longbourn, Bingley let out a hearty laugh and said, “Darcy, pray do tell me what happened in there!” “Whatever do you mean?” Darcy inquired. “I mean you and Mr. Wickham! That, my dear friend, was the closest thing to a cock fight I have ever witnessed!” Bingley’s face was smiling so broadly that Darcy suspected his cheeks must hurt.

A vaidade e o orgulho são coisas diferentes, embora as palavras sejam frequentemente usadas como sinónimos. Uma pessoa pode ser orgulhosa sem ser vaidosa. O orgulho relaciona-se mais com a opinião que temos de nós mesmos, e a vaidade, com o que desejaríamos que os outros pensassem de nós.

As for Elizabeth Bennet, our chief reason for accepting her point of view as a reflection of her author's is the impression that she bears of sympathy between them--an impression of which almost every reader would be sensible, even if it had not the explicit confirmation of Jane Austen's letters. Yet, as she is presented to us in Pride and Prejudice, she is but a partial and sometimes perverse observer.

Bingley prowled his library like a caged animal. The rain separating him from Jane imprisoned him in the house, creating his own personal hell. His sisters worked themselves into a frenzy over the ball, his brother-in-law consoled himself with increasing amounts of drink, and Darcy stared into space with a small smile on his lips. He wondered if the world had turned upside down if Darcy was the besotted man, smiling too much while he grumbled over every detail.

But really, and upon my honour, I will try to do what I think to be wisest; and now, I hope you are satisfied.

Blessed with the love of a good man, I felt equal to anything - even the prospect of living out my days in the Antipodes.

But look behind you, Mary.' She nodded towards the dais. 'One of the musicians seems to be trying to attract your attention.' It was Peter. He was standing on the dais smiling across at me. My delight at seeing him was such that I could not disguise it - did not try to disguise it.

Did you think of anything when Miss Marcy said Scoatney Hall was being re-opened? I thought of the beginning of Pride and Prejudice – where Mrs. Bennet says 'Netherfield Park is let a last.' And then Mr. Bennet goes over to call on the rich new owner.

Elizabeth could not believe what she was hearing. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham were having a verbal duel right there in her sitting room!

Elizabeth is the most wonderful person I have ever met! And you think so too! Do not you try to deny it; I see the way you look at her! Said by Georgiana to Mr. Darcy

English does not distinguish between arrogant-up (irreverence toward the temporarily powerful) and arrogant-down (directed at the small guy).

For herself she was humbled; but she was proud of him. Proud that in a cause of compassion and honour, he had been able to get the better of himself.

Hardly," I replied. "He despises me. Although probably not as much as I detest him." Tara smirked. "My, we certainly have strong feelings for someone, don't we? Are you sure you detest him, or is it something else?

Before I could reply, he had picked me up, literally swept me off my feet, and kissed me. And afterwards, when I tried to speak, he silenced me in much the same manner. It was a shock (but not at all distasteful) to be so caught up. Later - when he at last set me down - he handled me more gently. He took of my glasses and told me that he loved me.

But your good opinion is rarely bestowed and therefore more worth the earning.

Darcy: 'I certainly have not the talent which some people possess, of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.' Elizabeth:'My fingers do not move over this instrument in the masterly manner which I see so many women's do. They have not the same force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then I have always supposed it to be my own fault -- because I would not take the trouble of practicing. It is not that I do not believe my fingers as capable as any other woman's of superior execution.

Gândeşte-te la trecut numai în măsura în care amintirea lui îţi aduce bucurie.

Has de aprender algo de mi filosofía. Piensa sólo en el pasado cuando su recuerdo te procure placer.

Hello, Mary.' It was like hearing a note of divine calm after a dissonant passage of music. My confusion died away.

How earnestly did she then wish that her former opinions had been more reasonable, more moderate!

He had been the recipient, he now gratefully acknowledged, of a rare and precious gift. In demanding the hand of a woman he neither understood nor was capable of knowing, he had instead received from her the chance to see himself and the opportunity to become a better man. And he had changed. He knew he had. He knew that he was not that man stalking angrily back to his chambers in Rosings Hall. What had happened to him in those intervening months? He was not sure; he could offer no complete explanation, but the man who had opened Rosings's doors, already prepared to write an angry letter, was a stranger, a man who had been walking through his entire life asleep. But now, he had awoken.

I am determined that nothing but the deepest love could ever induce me into matrimony. [Elizabeth]

I admire all my three sons-in-law highly," said he. "Wickham, perhaps, is my favourite; but I think I shall like your husband quite as well as Jane's.

I do hope we shall meet again. Perhaps we could have a reading club of some sorts. I 've read that one." She leaned in. "Have you reached the part where Mr. Darcy proposes?" Asriel narrowed his gaze on Cross. "She did that on purpose." Pippa shook her head. "Oh, I did not ruin it. Elizabeth refuses." She paused. "I suppose I did ruin that. Apologies.

I did not have an opportunity to speak privately with Peter until just as he was leaving, when he handed me one of the Burns song-sheets and (with a most earnest look) told me to read it before I went to bed. The song was 'My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose,' but it was not until was up in my bedchamber that I saw he had written on the inside page: 'My mother would be honoured if you visited her after church tomorrow.

I dearly love a laugh.

I felt my mouth go dry, my throat constrict. What possible interpretation could Peter place on those words, other than that they were about him? - that the entire song was about him?

If you will thank me," he replied, "let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you." Elizabeth was too much embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause, her companion added, "You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever." Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of his situation, now forced herself to speak; and immediately, though not very fluently, gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergone so material a change since the period to which he alluded, as to make her receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances.The happiness which this reply produced was such as he had probably never felt before, and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do.

I had never in all my life felt so elated. Peter cared for me! It was a miracle I longed to celebrate - to tell all Hertfordshire - and I had to hold my hand to my mouth against an involuntary smile.

I found I could listen without envy to Letty's singing, and afterwards when the applause came, I did not mind that Mrs Knowles was heaping praises upon her. Peter's hands were on my chair, and when I leaned back I could feel them against my shoulders.

I hope I never ridicule what is wise or good.

I knew it was Peter playing. I fancied he was trying to tell me something - an absurd idea, but it persisted - 'I may not be able to spell, but just you listen to this.

I lost the letter in rather embarrassing circumstances. We were to dine at Parramatta Government House that same evening, and Peter had come in early from harvesting the wheat, sitting down in all his dirt to read the precious missive. I sat beside him, fresh from my bath. And so handsome did my husband look, long legs sprawled in Dungaree trousers and frowning over my father's spiky hand, that I could not resist reaching out to smooth away the frown. He caught my hand to his lips, still reading, and then chancing to look up, and reading my face more swiftly than he would ever read the written word, pulled me onto his lap.

I have come to realise that your are the most important person in the world to me, and I wanted to know if you would consider... if you would do me the honour of becoming my wife

I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty women can bestow.' Miss Bingley immediately fixated her eyes on his face, and desired he would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections. Mr. Darcy replied: 'Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

I never wish to be parted from you from this day on

I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy--with all my heart." "And I love you, my dearest Elizabeth. Forever and ever.

In suiting the action to the words, however, I perceived that the stars were all wrong. That was my undoing. I had looked up unthinkingly, anticipating the familiar, and, finding it gone, began to cry like a baby. Whereupon Peter stopped the gig and took me in his arms, kissing me so that my face was soon sore both from kissing and crying.

I should indefinitely prefer a book.

I'm fully aware," Firth told a reporter for the English magazine Now, "that if I were to change professions tomorrow, become an astronaut and be the first man to land on Mars, the headlines in the newspapers would read: `Mr. Darcy Lands on Mars.

I resolutely refuse to believe that the state of Edward's health had anything to do with this, and I don't say this only because I was once later accused of attacking him 'on his deathbed.' He was entirely lucid to the end, and the positions he took were easily recognizable by me as extensions or outgrowths of views he had expressed (and also declined to express) in the past. Alas, it is true that he was closer to the end than anybody knew when the thirtieth anniversary reissue of his Orientalism was published, but his long-precarious condition would hardly argue for giving him a lenient review, let alone denying him one altogether, which would have been the only alternatives. In the introduction he wrote for the new edition, he generally declined the opportunity to answer his scholarly critics, and instead gave the recent American arrival in Baghdad as a grand example of 'Orientalism' in action. The looting and destruction of the exhibits in the Iraq National Museum had, he wrote, been a deliberate piece of United States vandalism, perpetrated in order to shear the Iraqi people of their cultural patrimony and demonstrate to them their new servitude. Even at a time when anything at all could be said and believed so long as it was sufficiently and hysterically anti-Bush, this could be described as exceptionally mendacious. So when the Atlantic invited me to review Edward's revised edition, I decided I'd suspect myself more if I declined than if I agreed, and I wrote what I felt I had to. Not long afterward, an Iraqi comrade sent me without comment an article Edward had contributed to a magazine in London that was published by a princeling of the Saudi royal family. In it, Edward quoted some sentences about the Iraq war that he off-handedly described as 'racist.' The sentences in question had been written by me. I felt myself assailed by a reaction that was at once hot-eyed and frigidly cold. He had cited the words without naming their author, and this I briefly thought could be construed as a friendly hesitance. Or as cowardice... I can never quite act the stern role of Mr. Darcy with any conviction, but privately I sometimes resolve that that's 'it' as it were. I didn't say anything to Edward but then, I never said anything to him again, either. I believe that one or two charges simply must retain their face value and not become debauched or devalued. 'Racist' is one such. It is an accusation that must either be made good upon, or fully retracted. I would not have as a friend somebody whom I suspected of that prejudice, and I decided to presume that Edward was honest and serious enough to feel the same way. I feel misery stealing over me again as I set this down: I wrote the best tribute I could manage when he died not long afterward (and there was no strain in that, as I was relieved to find), but I didn't go to, and wasn't invited to, his funeral.

I saw that he was looking anxious. 'I thought you weren't coming.' As he spoke, he grasped my hand. And if the sight of him had not quite restored the magic, the touch of him most certainly did. 'You're not wishing yourself some place else, Mary?

It is a truth universally acknowledged, he’d mused, that most people will never find their ‘call me Ishmael’.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a wife.