What do you know of my heart? What do you know of anything but your own suffering? For weeks, Marianne, I've had this pressing on me without being at liberty to speak of it to a single creature. It was forced on me by the very person whose prior claims ruined all my hope. I have endured her exaltation again and again whilst knowing myself to be divided from Edward forever. Believe me, Marianne, had I not been bound to silence I could have provided proof enough of a broken heart, even for you.
Can he love her? Can the soul really be satisfied with such polite affections? To love is to burn, to be on fire. Like Juliet or Guinevere or Eloise.
(quoting William Shakespeare) "Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken"
Fanny: They're all exceedingly spoiled, I find. Miss Margaret spends all her time up trees and under furniture, and I've barely had a civil word from Marianne.
Edward: My dear Fanny, they've just lost their father. Their lives will never be the same again.
Fanny: That is no excuse.
Elinor: Margaret has always wanted to travel.
Edward: I know, she's heading an expedition to China shortly. I am to go as her servant, but only on the understanding that I will be very badly treated.
Elinor: You talk of feeling idle and useless. Imagine how that is compounded when one has no hope and no choice of any occupation whatsoever.
Edward: Our circumstances are, therefore, precisely the same.
Elinor: Except the you will inherit your fortune. We cannot even earn ours.
Edward: Perhaps Margaret is right.
Edward: Piracy is our only option. What is swabbing exactly?
Marianne: I'm taking you for a walk.
Margaret: No, I've been on a walk.
Marianne: You need another.
Margaret: It's going to rain.
Marianne: It is not going to rain.
Margaret: You always say that and then it always does.
Elinor: Marianne does not approve of hiding her emotions. In fact, her romantic prejudices have the unfortunate tendency to set propriety at naught.
Col. Brandon: She is wholly unspoiled.
Elinor: Rather too unspoiled in my view. The sooner she becomes acquainted with the ways of the world the better.
Col. Brandon: I knew a lady very like your sister- the same impulsive sweetness of temper- who was forced into, as you put it, "a better acquaintance with the world." The result was only ruination and despair. Do not desire it, Miss Dashwood.
Mrs. Dashwood: Colonel Brandon will be sorely missed.
John Willoughby: Why, when he is the sort of man that everyone speaks well of and no one remembers to talk to?
Margaret: Do you think he'll kneel down when he asks her?
Margaret: They always kneel down.
Elinor: Whatever his past actions, whatever his present course, at least you may be certain that he loved you.
Marianne: But not enough. Not enough.
Edward: Your friendship has been the most important of my life.