Books Are Nice Week Fortnight Month Really Long Time continues with the Editrix’s favorite Austen novel, Persuasion. We could choose no other passage than the one that gave us goosebumps when we first read it, and still does. We liked Jane Austen when we read it, but this made us an everlasting fangirl.

“I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in

F. W.

“I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your father’s house this evening or never.”

Such a letter was not to be soon recovered from.

You can say that again! Add your favorite quote from the novel; use the Molland’s e-text if you are so inclined.

Best. Monologue. Ever.

“So very obliging of you!–No rain at all. Nothing to signify. I do not care for myself. Quite thick shoes. And Jane declares–Well!–(as soon as she was within the door) Well! This is brilliant indeed!–This is admirable!–Excellently contrived, upon my word. Nothing wanting. Could not have imagined it.–So well lighted up!–Jane, Jane, look!–did you ever see any thing? Oh! Mr. Weston, you must really have had Aladdin’s lamp. Good Mrs. Stokes would not know her own room again. I saw her as I came in; she was standing in the entrance. ‘Oh! Mrs. Stokes,’ said I–but I had not time for more.” She was now met by Mrs. Weston.–“Very well, I thank you, ma’am. I hope you are quite well. Very happy to hear it. So afraid you might have a headach!–seeing you pass by so often, and knowing how much trouble you must have. Delighted to hear it indeed. Ah! dear Mrs. Elton, so obliged to you for the carriage!–excellent time. Jane and I quite ready. Did not keep the horses a moment. Most comfortable carriage.–Oh! and I am sure our thanks are due to you, Mrs. Weston, on that score. Mrs. Elton had most kindly sent Jane a note, or we should have been.–But two such offers in one day!–Never were such neighbours. I said to my mother, ‘Upon my word, ma’am–.’ Thank you, my mother is remarkably well. Gone to Mr. Woodhouse’s. I made her take her shawl–for the evenings are not warm–her large new shawl–Mrs. Dixon’s wedding-present.–So kind of her to think of my mother! Bought at Weymouth, you know–Mr. Dixon’s choice. There were three others, Jane says, which they hesitated about some time. Colonel Campbell rather preferred an olive. My dear Jane, are you sure you did not wet your feet?–It was but a drop or two, but I am so afraid:–but Mr. Frank Churchill was so extremely–and there was a mat to step upon–I shall never forget his extreme politeness.–Oh! Mr. Frank Churchill, I must tell you my mother’s spectacles have never been in fault since; the rivet never came out again. My mother often talks of your good-nature. Does not she, Jane?–Do not we often talk of Mr. Frank Churchill?–Ah! here’s Miss Woodhouse.–Dear Miss Woodhouse, how do you do?–Very well I thank you, quite well. This is meeting quite in fairy-land!–Such a transformation!–Must not compliment, I know (eyeing Emma most complacently)–that would be rude–but upon my word, Miss Woodhouse, you do look–how do you like Jane’s hair?–You are a judge.–She did it all herself. Quite wonderful how she does her hair!–No hairdresser from London I think could.–Ah! Dr. Hughes I declare–and Mrs. Hughes. Must go and speak to Dr. and Mrs. Hughes for a moment.–How do you do? How do you do?–Very well, I thank you. This is delightful, is not it?–Where’s dear Mr. Richard?–Oh! there he is. Don’t disturb him. Much better employed talking to the young ladies. How do you do, Mr. Richard?–I saw you the other day as you rode through the town–Mrs. Otway, I protest!–and good Mr. Otway, and Miss Otway and Miss Caroline.–Such a host of friends!–and Mr. George and Mr. Arthur!–How do you do? How do you all do?–Quite well, I am much obliged to you. Never better.–Don’t I hear another carriage?–Who can this be?–very likely the worthy Coles.–Upon my word, this is charming to be standing about among such friends! And such a noble fire!–I am quite roasted. No coffee, I thank you, for me–never take coffee.–A little tea if you please, sir, by and bye,–no hurry–Oh! here it comes. Every thing so good!”

Add your favorite–feel free to use the Molland’s e-text if you would like to copy and paste.

Books Are Nice Week continues with an excerpt from Pride and Prejudice. It occurred to us recently that it’s probably one of the most, if not the most, important scene in the novel: the confrontation between Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Elizabeth Bennet in the prettyish little wilderness at Longbourn.

“I will not be interrupted. Hear me in silence. My daughter and my nephew are formed for each other. They are descended, on the maternal side, from the same noble line; and, on the father’s, from respectable, honourable, and ancient — though untitled — families. Their fortune on both sides is splendid. They are destined for each other by the voice of every member of their respective houses; and what is to divide them? The upstart pretensions of a young woman without family, connections, or fortune. Is this to be endured! But it must not, shall not be. If you were sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere in which you have been brought up.”

“In marrying your nephew, I should not consider myself as quitting that sphere. He is a gentleman; I am a gentleman’s daughter; so far we are equal.”

That’s really quite a declaration. Everyone’s been so obsequious to Darcy for the whole book, except for Lizzy, of course; but while she hasn’t taken him too seriously, to come out and say, “I am his equal,” plainly like that, and in such a situation, is really quite remarkable. Or are we perhaps reading too much into it? 😉

Feel free to post a passage you like; feel free to use the Molland’s e-text to copy and paste.