Always resignation and acceptance. Always prudence and honour and duty. Elinor, where is your heart?
Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?
“It is not everyone,” said Elinor, “who has your passion for dead leaves.”
His cold politeness, his ceremonious grace, were worse than anything.
Stupid men are the only ones worth knowing after all.
She had nothing to do but to forgive herself and be happier than ever.