My dear Mr. Bennet," said his lady to him one day, "have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?

What do you know of my heart? What do you know of anything but your own suffering?

To take a dislike to a young man, only because he appeared to be of a different disposition from himself, was unworthy the real liberality of mind

We all love to instruct, though we can teach only what is not worth knowing.

Were I to fall in love, indeed, it would be a different thing! but I never have been in love; it is not my way, or my nature; and I do not think I ever shall.

Mr. Bennet, how can you abuse your own children in such a way? You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion for my poor nerves." "You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these last twenty years at least.

Undoubtedly ... there is a meanness in all the arts which ladies sometimes condescend to employ for captivation. What bears affinity to cunning is despicable.