Dear Diary, Today I tried not to think about Mr. Knightly. I tried not to think about him when I discussed the menu with Cook... I tried not to think about him in the garden where I thrice plucked the petals off a daisy to ascertain his feelings for Harriet. I don't think we should keep daisies in the garden, they really are a drab little flower. And I tried not to think about him when I went to bed, but something had to be done.

What wild imaginations one forms where dear self is concerned! How sure to be mistaken!

Could there be finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love?

A fondness for reading, which, properly directed, must be an education in itself.

Well, my dear," said Mr. Bennet, when Elizabeth had read the note aloud, "if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness—if she should die, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of Mr. Bingley, and under your orders.

Where an opinion is general, it is usually correct.

I will not allow it to be more man's nature than woman's to be inconstant.