Of all the weapons in the world, I now know love to be the most dangerous, for I have suffered a mortal wound.
I do not know which I admire more, Elizabeth Bennet. Your skill as a warrior, or your resolve as a woman.
Her face is rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. And I’m forced to acknowledge her figure as both light and pleasing. And that her arms are surprisingly muscular, yet not so much as to be unfeminine.
A woman is either highly trained or highly refined. One cannot afford the luxury of both in such times.