Oh, Lizzy! do anything rather than marry without affection.

the Musgroves had had the ill fortune of a very troublesome, hopeless son, and the good fortune to lose him before he reached his twentieth year.

I am not romantic, you know; I never was.

Life could do nothing for her, beyond giving time for a better preparation for death.

His cold politeness, his ceremonious grace, were worse than anything.

I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding— certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of other so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever.

She hoped to be wise and reasonable in time; but alas! Alas! She must confess to herself that she was not wise yet.