Quote 1
"My objection is this; though I think very well of Mrs. Jennings' heart, she is not a woman whose society can afford us pleasure, or whose protection will give us consequence." (25.7)
After Elinor's continued defense of Mrs. Jennings, we're a little surprised at the line of argument she takes here to try and avoid going to London. Despite the fact that she cares most about people's personalities, she demonstrates her simultaneous interest in social status and advantage.
Quote 2
"I am afraid," replied Elinor, "that the pleasantness of an employment does not always evince its propriety."
"On the contrary, nothing can be a stronger proof of it, Elinor; for if there had been any real impropriety in what I did, I should have been sensible of it at the time, for we always know when we are acting wrong, and with such a conviction I could have had no pleasure." (13.19)
This spat between Elinor and Marianne demonstrates their differing views on society, and how much control it should have over our actions. Marianne seems to believe that we should really just do what we feel like doing, whereas Elinor always thinks of the social ramifications of any action.
Quote 3
"But I did not love only him; -- and while the comfort of others was dear to me, I was glad to spare them from knowing how much I felt. Now, I can think and speak of it with little emotion. I would not have you suffer on my account; for I assure you I no longer suffer materially myself. I have many things to support me. I am not conscious of having provoked the disappointment by any imprudence of my own, and I have borne it as much as possible without spreading it farther. I acquit Edward of all essential misconduct. I wish him very happy; and I am so sure of his always doing his duty, that though now he may harbour some regret, in the end he must become so. Lucy does not want sense, and that is the foundation on which everything good may be built. And after all, Marianne, after all that is bewitching in the idea of a single and constant attachment, and all that can be said of one's happiness depending entirely on any particular person, it is not meant -- it is not fit -- it is not possible that it should be so. Edward will marry Lucy; he will marry a woman superior in person and understanding to half her sex; and time and habit will teach him to forget that he ever thought another superior to her." (37.13)
Elinor's approach to love comes out clearly here – she claims that she's basically reasoned her way out of sorrow (which we know not to be true). She attempts to conquer love and heartbreak with logic.
Quote 4
Had Edward been intentionally deceiving her? Had he feigned a regard for her which he did not feel? Was his engagement to Lucy an engagement of the heart? No; whatever it might once have been, she could not believe it such at present. His affection was all her own. She could not be deceived in that. Her mother, sisters, Fanny, all had been conscious of his regard for her at Norland; it was not an illusion of her own vanity. He certainly loved her. What a softener of the heart was this persuasion! How much could it not tempt her to forgive! He had been blameable, highly blameable, in remaining at Norland after he felt her influence over him to be more than it ought to be. In that, he could not be defended; but if he had injured her, how much more had he injured himself! If her case were pitiable, his was hopeless. His imprudence had made her miserable for a while; but it seemed to have deprived himself of all chance of ever being otherwise. She might in time regain tranquillity; but he, what had he to look forward to? Could he ever be tolerably happy with Lucy Steele? could he, were his affection for herself out of the question, with his integrity, his delicacy, and well-informed mind, be satisfied with a wife like her -- illiterate, artful, and selfish? (23.1)
Poor, poor Elinor. She realizes that love should truly be a match of equals – and that Lucy Steele is certainly not Edward's equal (obviously, she herself is).
Quote 5
"I do not understand you," replied he, colouring. "Reserved! -- how, in what manner? What am I to tell you? What can you suppose?"
Elinor looked surprised at his emotion, but trying to laugh off the subject, she said to him, "Do not you know my sister well enough to understand what she means? Do not you know that she calls every one reserved who does not talk as fast, and admire what she admires as rapturously as herself?" (17.7)
Edward's communication problems emerge rather awkwardly here – he's surprised and perhaps ashamed by the idea that other people find his reticent nature notable. However, he's clearly uncomfortable and unsure of how to remedy this. We're not sure what exactly he'd say if he could come out and say whatever's on his mind, like Marianne.
Quote 6
"Me!" returned Elinor in some confusion; "indeed, Marianne, I have nothing to tell."
"Nor I," answered Marianne with energy, "our situations then are alike. We have neither of us anything to tell; you, because you do not communicate, and I, because I conceal nothing." (27.17)
The difference in Elinor and Marianne couldn't be made more plain – their different tactics on communication are clearly both flawed.
Quote 7
These words, which conveyed to Elinor a direct avowal of his love for her sister, affected her very much. She was not immediately able to say anything, and even when her spirits were recovered, she debated for a short time on the answer it would be most proper to give. The real state of things between Willoughby and her sister was so little known to herself, that in endeavouring to explain it, she might be as liable to say too much as too little. (27.28)
The conundrum of communicating at all in this society is really quite shocking – there's always the danger of saying too much, or nothing at all. We're not sure how anyone ever got anything out in the open in Austen's day! Elinor can't even come out and say that she simply doesn't know.
Quote 8
Elinor drew near, but without saying a word; and seating herself on the bed, took her hand, kissed her affectionately several times, and then gave way to a burst of tears, which at first was scarcely less violent than Marianne's. The latter, though unable to speak, seemed to feel all the tenderness of this behaviour, and after some time thus spent in joint affliction, she put all the letters into Elinor's hands; and then covering her face with her handkerchief, almost screamed with agony. (29.7)
Interestingly, Elinor and Marianne seem to communicate most directly in a non-verbal fashion – we see them really commune for the first time in this scene.
Quote 9
Elinor placed all that was astonishing in this way of acting to his mother's account; and it was happy for her that he had a mother whose character was so imperfectly known to her, as to be the general excuse of everything strange on the part of her son. (19.2)
Family here serves as an excuse for inexplicable behavior – it's natural that the one thing that usually motivates weird actions here should be blamed even when there's no proof.
Quote 10
His want of spirits, of openness, and of consistency, were most usually attributed to his want of independence, and his better knowledge of Mrs. Ferrars's disposition and designs. The shortness of his visit, the steadiness of his purpose in leaving them, originated in the same fettered inclination, the same inevitable necessity of temporizing with his mother. The old, well-established grievance of duty against will, parent against child, was the cause of all. (19.2)
Here, Elinor comes right out and blames the "fettering" relationship of mother and son for Edward's weird behavior – family, we see, is a kind of ball and chain, as well as a support mechanism.
Quote 11
As these considerations occurred to her in painful succession, she wept for him more than for herself. Supported by the conviction of having done nothing to merit her present unhappiness, and consoled by the belief that Edward had done nothing to forfeit her esteem, she thought she could even now, under the first smart of the heavy blow, command herself enough to guard every suspicion of the truth from her mother and sisters. And so well was she able to answer her own expectations, that when she joined them at dinner only two hours after she had first suffered the extinction of all her dearest hopes, no one would have supposed from the appearance of the sisters, that Elinor was mourning in secret over obstacles which must divide her for ever from the object of her love, and that Marianne was internally dwelling on the perfections of a man, of whose whole heart she felt thoroughly possessed, and whom she expected to see in every carriage which drove near their house. (23.3)
Sigh. Again, we have to say it – poor Elinor! She's just had her hopes and dreams crushed, and now she has to reevaluate her whole future life. To make matters worse, she can't even tell anyone about it.