Emma

by Jane Austen

The older a person grows, Harriet, the more important it is that their manners should not be bad; the more glaring and disgusting any loudness, or coarseness, or awkwardness becomes. What is passable in youth is detestable in later age.

How can Emma imagine she has any thing to learn herself, while Harriet is presenting such a delightful inferiority?

She played and sang;—and drew in almost every style; but steadiness had always been wanting; and in nothing had she approached the degree of excellence which she would have been glad to command, and ought not to have failed of.

She was not much deceived as to her own skill either as an artist or a musician, but she was not unwilling to have others deceived, or sorry to know her reputation for accomplishment often higher than it deserved.

Nothing so easy as for a young lady to raise her expectations too high.

One half of the world cannot understand the pleasures of the other.”

“My being charming, Harriet, is not quite enough to induce me to marry; I must find other people charming—one other person at least.

for a very narrow income has a tendency to contract the mind, and sour the temper. Those who can barely live, and who live perforce in a very small, and generally very inferior, society, may well be illiberal and cross.

Perhaps it was not fair to expect him to feel how very much he was her inferior in talent, and all the elegancies of mind.

The youth and cheerfulness of morning are in happy analogy, and of powerful operation; and if the distress be not poignant enough to keep the eyes unclosed, they will be sure to open to sensations of softened pain and brighter hope.

“There is one thing, Emma, which a man can always do, if he chooses, and that is, his duty;

!

“Oftentimes very convenient, no doubt, but never pleasing. There is safety in reserve, but no attraction. One cannot love a reserved person.”

“This is the luxury of a large party,” said she:—“one can get near every body, and say every thing.

YES

“There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart,” said she afterwards to herself. “There is nothing to be compared to it. Warmth and tenderness of heart, with an affectionate, open manner, will beat all the clearness of head in the world, for attraction, I am sure it will.

People who have extensive grounds themselves are always pleased with any thing in the same style.” Emma doubted the truth of this sentiment. She had a great idea that people who had extensive grounds themselves cared very little for the extensive grounds of any body else;

“I shall not scold you. I leave you to your own reflections.” “Can you trust me with such flatterers?—Does my vain spirit ever tell me I am wrong?”

am sick of England—and would leave it to-morrow, if I could.” “You are sick of prosperity and indulgence. Cannot you invent a few hardships for yourself, and be contented to stay?”

No description can describe her. She must tell you herself what she is—yet not by word, for never was there a human creature who would so designedly suppress her own merit.—Since

Fancying you to have fathomed his secret. Natural enough!—his own mind full of intrigue, that he should suspect it in others.—Mystery;

What do you deserve?” “Oh! I always deserve the best treatment, because I never put up with any other; and, therefore, you must give me a plain, direct answer.