Sometimes I think I’m more like Elinor when I see scenes like this. 


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 exultations 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.

(It is apparently Jane Austen morning over here.)

I Love Alan Rickman as Col. Brandon. “Give me an occupation, Miss Dashwood, or I shall go mad.” Swoon. (And since, according to the Jane Austen quiz on my sidebar, I AM Marianne, my love of both Rickman as Col. Brandon and Col. Brandon himself is quite warranted.)