Austenland

He had a dashing smile. It nearly dashed right off his face.

What are you doing?" "Ya!" said Jane, whirling around, her hands held up menacingly. It was Mr. Nobley with coat, hat, and cane, watching her with wide eyes. Jane took several quick (but oh so casual) steps away from Martin's window. "Um, did I just say, 'Ya'?" "You just said 'Ya,'" he confirmed. "If I am not mistaken, it was a battle cry, warning that you were about to attack me. I, uh..." She stopped to laugh. "I wasn't aware until this precise and awkward moment that when startled in a startled in a strange place, my instincts would have me pretend to be a ninja.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a thirty-something woman in possession of a satisfying career and fabulous hairdo must be in want of very little

If you were a woman, all I'd have to say is 'Colin Firth in a wet shirt' and you'd say 'Ah.

For Colin Firth: You're a really great guy, but I'm married, so I think we should just be friends.

It's not something you tell your single best friend. It'd be like rubbing your nose in the poop of my happiness.

Miss Hayes, have you stopped to consider that you might have this all backward? That in fact you are my fantasy?

Figure out what is real for you. No use leaning on someone else's story all your life.

I think you just complimented me," said Jane. "You should take better care next time." The music had started, the couples had begun a promenade, but Mr. Nobley paused to hold Jane's arm and whisper, "Jane Erstwhile, if I never had to speak with another human being but you, I would die a happy man. I would that these people, the music, the food and foolishness all disappeared and left us alone. I would never tire of looking at you or listening to you." He took a breath. "There. That compliment was on purpose. I swear I will never idly compliment you again." Jane's mouth was dry. All she could think to say was, "But... but surely you wouldn't banish all the food." He considered, then nodded once. "Right. We will keep the food. We will have a picnic." And he spun her into the middle of the dance.

He nodded. "And if I don't make you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world every day of your life, then I don't deserve to be near you.

... fantasy is not practice for what is real—fantasy is the opiate of women.

Why was the judgement of the disapproving so valuable? Who said that their good opinions tended to be any more rational than those of generally pleasant people?

I'm not hopeless, that's the problem. I'm too hopeful, if anything ... I'm so thick-headed it's taken me this long to give up on men, but I can't give up completely, you know? So I ... I channel all my hope into an idea, to someone who can't reject me because he isn't real!

Miss Erstwhile: “It is such a relief, Mr. Nobley, to already know that you find this exercise vulgar and your partner unworthy. It saves us the idle chitchat.” Mr. Nobley: “And yet you chat away.

Well do I remember the first night we met, how you questioned my opinion that first impressions are perfect. You were right to do so, of course, but even then I suspected what I've come to believe most passionately these past weeks: from that first moment, I knew you were a dangerous woman, and I was in great peril of falling in love." She thought she should say something witty here. She said, "Really?

I need to admit up front that I don't know how to have a fling. I'm not good at playing around and then saying good-bye. I'm throwing myself at your feet because I'm hoping for a shot at forever." Henry Jenkins/Mr. Nobley

Figure out what is real for you. No use leaning on someone else's story all your life...go make your happily-ever-after happen.

What? Don't British women know how to use their knees?

If you're listening Big Brother, I refuse to be Fanny Price.

I know they are naught things, but I devour novels.” (p. 57).

I couldn't see what was real until time had washed away everything else.

Later, when they would spend straight hours conversing in the dark, Jane would realize that Henry kissed the way he talked- his entire attention taut, focused, intensely hers.

Is this why women wear heels? thought Jane. We hobble ourselves so we can still be rescued by men?

He had the kind of face you wanted to kiss — lips, forehead, cheeks, eyelids, everywhere except his chin. That you wanted to bite.

Why was the judgment of the disapproving so valuable? Who said that their good opinions tended to be any more rational than those of generally pleasant people?

She was not who she'd thought she was. No one was.

Figure out what is real for you. No use leaning on someone else’s story all your life.

Without hope, it was impossible to fantasize.

Mr Nobley: "Ah here you are. Miss Erstwhile. You are infuriating and irritating, and yet I find myself looking for you. I would be grateful if you would send me away and make me swear to never return.

I wasn't aware until this precise and awkward moment that when startled in a strange place, my instincts would have me pretend to be a ninja.