I have been used to consider poetry as "the food of love" said Darcy. "Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away.

They gave themselves up wholly to their sorrow, seeking increase of wretchedness in every reflection that could afford it, and resolved against ever admitting consolation in future.

It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began. But I believe I must date it from my first seeing his beautiful grounds at Pemberley.

And we mean to treat you all,' added Lydia, 'but you must lend us the money, for we have just spent ours at the shop out there.

But indeed I would rather have nothing but tea.

I do not like to have people throw themselves away; but everybody should marry as soon as they can do it to advantage.

The Very first moment I beheld him, my heart was irrevocably gone.