Marianne Dashwood Quotes

Many a time I have been related to Marianne Dashwood from Jane Austen's classic novel, Sense and Sensibility. Not only because of my emotion ways, but because of my incurable romantic ways that in preferring to focus on what might be, rather than what is. Even the relationship between Marianne and her sister Elinor or alike in so many ways to me and my own sister. Their very way of communicating to each other and looking at things so differently are so like my sister and myself. I've decided to share some quotes from Marianne that I wish I could say myself.

"Pathetic? To die for love? How can you say so? What could be more glorious?"

"That is what I like; that is what a young man ought to be. Whatever be his pursuits, his eagerness in them should know no moderation, and leave him no sense of fatigue."

"It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others."

"At my time of life opinions are tolerably fixed. It is not likely that I should now see or hear anything to change them."

"Esteem him? Like him? Use those insipid words again and I shall leave the room this instant."

"Is there a felicity in the world superior to this? Margaret, we will walk here at least two hours."

"I could not be happy with a man whose taste did not in every point coincide with my own. He must enter into all my feelings; the same books, the same music must charm us both. . . ."

There are many, many other quotes that I could put down here, but for now, I'll just leave you with my favorite poem by Hartley Coleridge

"Is love a fancy, or a feeling? No.
It is immortal as immaculate Truth,
'Tis not a blossom shed as soon as youth,
Drops from the stem of life--for it will grow,
In barren regions, where no waters flow,
Nor rays of promise cheats the pensive gloom.
A darkling fire, faint hovering o'er a tomb,
That but itself and darkness nought doth show,
It is my love's being yet it cannot die,
Nor will it change, though all be changed beside;
Though fairest beauty be no longer fair,
Though vows be false, and faith itself deny,
Though sharp enjoyment be a suicide,
And hope a spectre in a ruin bare."