You have bewitched me body and soul and I love, I love, I love you.
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Jane Austen
Jane Austen (/ˈdʒeɪn ˈɒstɪn/; 16 December 1775 – 18 July 1817) was an English novelist known primarily for her six major novels, which interpret, critique and comment upon the British landed gentry at the end of the 18th century. Austen's plots often explore the dependence of women on marriage in the pursuit of favourable social standing and economic security. Her works critique the novels of sensibility of the second half of the 18th century and are part of the transition to 19th-century literary realism. With the publications of Sense and Sensibility (1811), Pride and Prejudice (1813), Mansfield Park (1814) and Emma (1815), she achieved success as a published writer. She wrote two additional novels, Northanger Abbey and Persuasion, both published posthumously in 1818, and began another, eventually titled Sanditon, but died before its completion. Her novels have rarely been out of print, although they were published anonymously and brought her little fame during her lifetime. A significant transition in her posthumous reputation occurred in 1869, fifty-two years after her death, when her nephew's publication of A Memoir of Jane Austen introduced her to a wider audience. Austen has inspired a large number of critical essays and literary anthologies. Her novels have inspired many films, from 1940's Pride and Prejudice to more recent productions like Sense and Sensibility (1995) and Love & Friendship (2016). Jane Austen's use of biting irony, along with her realism and social commentary have earned her great and historical importance to critics and scholar
There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or…
I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a book!
Our scars make us know that our past was for real.
Beware how you give your heart.
You must know, it was all for you…
There are few people whom I really love and still fewer of whom I think well.
In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.
Will you tell me how long you have loved him? It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began.
We do not suffer by accident.
We do not suffer by accident.
There are few people whom I really love and still fewer of whom I think well.
There are few people whom I really love and still fewer of whom I think well.
My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.
My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.
We do not suffer by accident.
There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or…
You must know, it was all for you…
In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.