Pride and Prejudice

“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” (Austen 185).

“And those the words of a gentleman!”

“Pardon me. It pains me to offend you” (Austen193).

Gratitude, not merely for having once loved her, but for loving her still well enough,  to forgive all the petulance and acrimony of her manner in rejecting him, and all the unjust accusations accompanying her rejection (Austen 253).

“Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure” (348).

“How could you begin?” said she.

“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun” (Austen 359).

Two summers ago, I read Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. I read it, and without any intention, without any reason, I fell in love with it. But I was in China, with my mom and that troublemaker I call my brother. I was not staying there long, and so I read it online by an ebook. How I wanted to tear apart my Mac and highlight, annotate, rip a page to fold it in my journal you cannot imagine. Despite the headache, despite my hurting eyes from staring too long into a computer screen, I could not stop. Could not stop reading, could not stop loving Mr. Darcy.  And one day I could no longer contain that feeling that I told my brother, my silly, lovely brother, "I love Mr. Darcy." He looked at me. He looked at my mom. He looked at me again and said, "Is Mr. Darcy your boyfriend?" And then of course my mom and I both laughed. So my brother thinks my mom approves of me going out with Mr. Darcy.