Divergent

     THERE IS ONE mirror in my house. It is behind a sliding panel in the hallway upstairs. Our faction allows me to stand in front of it on the second day of every third month, the day my mother cuts my hair. I sit on the stool and my mother stands behind m e with the scissors, trimming. The strands fall on the floor in a dull, blond ring. When she finishes, she pulls my hair away from my face and twists it into a knot. I note how calm she looks and how focused she is. She is well-practiced in the art of losing herself. I can’t say the same of myself. I sneak a look at my reflection when she isn’t paying attention—not for the sake of vanity, but out of curiosity. A lot can happen to a person’s appearance in three months. In my reflection, I see a narrow face, wide, round eyes, and a long, thin nose—I still look like a little girl, though sometime in the last few months I turned sixteen. The other factions celebrate birthdays, but we don’t. It would be self-indulgent. “There,” she says when she pins the knot in place. Her eyes catch mine in the mirror. It is too late to look away, but instead of scolding me, she smiles at our reflection.

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Veronica Roth's Divergent, Chapter 1, page 1

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     Beatrice has a discourse with her mother about what is about to happen to her. When she turns sixteen, she will have to commit herself to a faction, and that is always a very stressful decision. She feels some agitation in the matter, because her heart tells her to go to a different faction, but she was raised to be in the faction Abnegation. She is suppose to be selfless, and she greatly struggles with that. She does not want to disgrace her parents in any way, yet she does not feel free. Her garments are dull; she life his dull. She wants something better. She finally decides to go to a faction called Dauntless. There she struggles to find her identity and purpose in life. Thus is the beginning summary of Veronica Roth's book Divergent.

Phantom of the Opera

MY DEAR MANAGERS:

So it is to be war between us?

If you still care for peace, here is my ultimatum. It consists of the four following conditions:

1. You must give me back my private box; and I wish it to be at my free disposal from henceforward.

2. The part of Margarita shall be sung this evening by Christine Daae. Never mind about Carlotta; she will be ill.

3. I absolutely insist upon the good and loyal services of Mme. Giry, my box-keeper, whom you will reinstate in her functions forthwith.

4. Let me know by a letter handed to Mme. Giry, who will see that it reaches me, that you accept, as your predecessors did, the conditions in my memorandum-book relating to my monthly allowance. I will inform you later how you are to pay it to me.

If you refuse, you will give FAUST to-night in a house with a curse upon it.

Take my advice and be warned in time. O. G.

"Look here, I'm getting sick of him, sick of him!" shouted Richard, bringing his fists down on his office-table.

Just then, Mercier, the acting-manager, entered.

"Lachenel would like to see one of you gentlemen," he said. "He says that his business is urgent and he seems quite upset."

"Who's Lachenel?" asked Richard.

"He's your stud-groom."

"What do you mean? My stud-groom?"

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Gaston Leroux's Phantom of the Opera, Chapter 7

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     I cannot believe that after all this time the new managers know so little. Everyone in the theatre knows about the Opera Ghost, how is it that by this time, no one else has told them about it. They seem to not know who anyone is in the theatre either. Why is that? I thought that since they were the managers, they would know everything. They talked to the old managers and were told about the ghost but they did not believe it. Why is it that people in books like this always have to find out the hard way? They see strange things going on, yet they just refuse to believe it. It reminds be on The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. Oh well, the two new owners will just have to figure it out difficult way.

Princess Bride

 As to Inigo's personal life, he was always just a trifle hungry, he had no brothers or sisters, and his mother had died in childbirth.
He was fantastically happy.
Because of his father. Domingo Montoya was funny-looking and crotchety and impatient and absent-minded and never smiled.
Inigo loved him. Totally. Don't ask why. There really wasn't any one reason you could put your finger on. Oh, probably Domingo loved him back, but love is many things, none of them logical.
Domingo Montoya made swords. If you wanted a fabulous sword, did you go to Domingo Montoya? If you wanted a great balanced piece of work, did you go to the mountains behind Toledo? If you wanted a masterpiece, a sword for the ages, was it Arabella that your footsteps led you to?
Nope.
You went to Madrid; because Madrid was where lived the famous Yeste, and if you had the money and he had the time, you got your weapon. Yeste was fat and jovial and one of the richest and most honored men in the city. And he should have been. He made wonderful swords, and noblemen bragged to each other when they owned an original Yeste.

But sometimes—not often, mind you, maybe once a year, maybe less—a request would come in for a weapon that was more than even Yeste could make. when that happened, did Yeste say, alas, I am sorry, I cannot do it? Nope. What he said was, Of course, I'd be delighted...
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William Goldman's Princess Bride, Chapter 5, page 119
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     I love how casually Goldman speaks. He, the man who wrote one of the best books in the world, is able to put depth and character into his tale even without it sounding boring. The story, which is full of love, death, miracles, revenge, and everything else, has description, but the way the author puts it, it is easy and enjoyable to read. Many modern authors write in a style that is clear and gets what they want to say across, but they lack description. I have found it harder to fall in love with or relate to the characters in books where there are few adjectives. Books like the Hunger Games and Divergent may be popular, but they simply do not give me that satisfaction, excitement, or enticement that every reader should feel while reading a chapter. Goldman,  who clearly has the writing style of one who knows what he is doing, made a masterpiece that truly gives the reader that special feeling. He does not overdo it like G. A. Henty, but he finds the perfect balance. I love the story of the Princess Bride and I have sincerely enjoyed everything I have read from it. I am sure everyone, lover of books or not, will truly love William Goldman's Princess Bride because of his fabulous style of writing.

Description from Anne of Green Gables VS My Own

     She opened her eyes and looked about her. They were on the crest of a hill. The sun had set some time since, but the landscape was still clear in the mellow afterlight. To the west a dark church spire rose up against a marigold sky. Below was a little valley and beyond a long, gently-rising slope with snug farmsteads scattered along it. From one to another the child's eyes darted, eager and wistful. At last they lingered on one away to the left, far back from the road, dimly white with blossoming trees in the twilight of the surrounding woods. Over it, in the stainless southwest sky, a great crystal-white star was shining like a lamp of guidance and promise.
     "That's it, isn't it?" she said, pointing.
Matthew slapped the reins on the sorrel's back delightedly.
     "Well now, you've guessed it! But I reckon Mrs. Spencer described it so's you could tell."
     "No, she didn't--really she didn't. All she said might just as well have been about most of those other places. I hadn't any real idea what it looked like. But just as soon as I saw it I felt it was home."
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L. M. Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables, Chapter 2, page 21

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     The cold wind blew through her soft hair gently and shot up her loose pant-legs.  It had been a long time since she had dared to come here, but now that she had, she felt at peace.  The morning fog had not yet disappeared, and the trees were bare showing that it was winter.  Breathing slowly, she sucked in the cold air and let it come out in a foggy cloud.  The graveyard did not seem to be as scary or dark a place as it normally was in movies.  It was simply a place where people -much like her- could go and remember the old times they had had with those who were once alive.
     Crouching down, she stared at her mother's simple-looking gravestone.  It had been too long, but now, as she looked thoughtfully at the stone, she felt forgiven for everything she had ever done.
     "I did it, mom." The woman said shyly with a tear forming in her eye. "I took care of the girls.  They are all happily married and Reagan even has a little child.  I'm sorry for not coming when you were still here.  I'm sorry for running away, but I came back.  I came back and made sure that my sisters were taken care of.  I," A little cough escaped her mouth.  She was too sick to be out here.  She should have stayed inside where it was warm.  But she was still glad she had come.  Now her mother could understand and sleep in peace.  What was broken now was mended, at least as well as it could for the time being.

The Consequences of the Golden Calf

      So Aaron said, “Do not let the anger of my lord become hot. You know the people, that they are set on evil. 23 For they said to me, ‘Make us gods that shall go before us; as for this Moses, the man who brought us out of the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him.’ 24 And I said to them, ‘Whoever has any gold, let them break it off.’ So they gave it to me, and I cast it into the fire, and this calf came out.”

     25 Now when Moses saw that the people were unrestrained (for Aaron had not restrained them, to their shame among their enemies), 26 then Moses stood in the entrance of the camp, and said, “Whoever is on the Lord’s side—come to me!” And all the sons of Levi gathered themselves together to him. 27 And he said to them, “Thus says the Lord God of Israel: ‘Let every man put his sword on his side, and go in and out from entrance to entrance throughout the camp, and let every man kill his brother, every man his companion, and every man his neighbor.’” 28 So the sons of Levi did according to the word of Moses. And about three thousand men of the people fell that day. 29 Then Moses said, “Consecrate yourselves today to the Lord, that He may bestow on you a blessing this day, for every man has opposed his son and his brother.”

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Exodus 32:22-29

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     In this section from the Bible, the Israelites disobeyed God while Moses was absent, so they were punished.  Aaron tried to explain to Moses that he had not concocted to idol himself, but that the calf just popped out of the fire.  I think it is humorous that way he says this because instead of confessing and admitting his fault, he tries so hard to conceal it.  Moses, fuming with anger at his cynical people, asked for those that were on God's side to separate themselves from the evil.  Then, the ones that went to Moses were told to slaughter their own family and friends as the Lord had told them to.  I feel so sorry for those who had to do that.  It must have been a very gory, traumatic scene.   I cannot even imagine having to only listen to all the screams of the people, nevertheless, kill any of those children.  I do understand, however, that after what all those people had done -worshiping idols, sacrificing, being immoral- they had to be punished by death, for they were acting just like the Egyptians had.  Since God's people had done wrong and acted shamefully, they had to be disciplined.

The Death on Animals Farm

    Presently, the tumult died down. The four pigs waited, trembling, with guilt written on every line of their countenances. Napoleon now called upon them to confess their crimes. They were the same four pigs as had protested when Napoleon abolished the Sunday Meetings. Without any further prompting, they confessed that they had been secretly in touch with Snowball ever since his expulsion, that they had collaborated with him in destroying the windmill, and that they had entered into an agreement with him to hand over Animal Farm to Mr Frederick. They added that Snowball had privately admitted to them that he had been Jones' secret agent for years past. When they had finished their confession, the dogs promptly tore their throats out, and in a terrible voice Napoleon demanded whether any other animal had anything to confess. 
     The three hens who had been the ringleaders in the attempted rebellion over the eggs now came forward and stated that Snowball had appeared to them in a dream and incited them to disobey Napoleon's orders. They too, were slaughtered.  Then a goose came forward and confessed to having secreted six ears of corn during last year's harvest and eaten them in the night.  Then a sheep confessed to having urinated in the drinking pool-urged to do this, so she said, by Snowball-and two other sheep confessed  murdered an old ram, an especially devoted follower of Napoleon, by chasing him round and round a bonfire when he was suffering from a cough.  They were all slain on the spot.
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 George Orwell's Animals Farm, chapter 7, page 83-84

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      This part of the book makes me sad and confused.  The animals confess to doing such crimes, but why?  It is difficult to believe that they really did those things.  Somehow convincing them to admit, Napoleon was able to get them out of the way, but why did he see them as a threat?  What had they done?  Why would they say such things when they saw before them, their fellow friends get torn to pieces?  Torturing them, Napoleon must have made them so weak that they would admit to what he wished, so why then did Orwell not mention that certain animals had gone missing for a period of time?  I also find it hard to understand how the animals, having witnessed such a horrific scene, would not have had a discussion in the barn about what had happened.  How could they keep from talking?  The poor things must have been in such shock!  Communism is truly terrible, and it makes me sad to read about creatures dieing even as simply as George Orwell has put it.

Don Quijote and the Basque Again

     Good God, who could easily recount the rage that now filled the heart of our La Manchan, having been dealt such a setback!  The best we can say is that he reared up once again in his stirrups, took a two-handed grip on his sword, and swung so savagely at the Basque, hitting him squarely on the coach-cushion and on the head that, though the cushion had offered him first-rate protection, not it was as if a mountain had fallen on him, and blood began to pour out of his nostrils and his mouth, and also from his ears, and it looked as if he would fall off his mule, as indeed without any doubt he would, had he not clutched at the animals neck.  But still, his feet fell out of the stirrups, and in a moment his arms slipped away, and his mule, terrified by fearful blow, began to run through the fields, and after a few leaps threw his master to the ground.
     Don Quijote was watching all this with great calm, and when he saw the Basque fall, he leaped off his horse and ran quickly toward him, then put the point the point of his sword between the Basque's eyes and ordered him to surrender, or have his head cut off.  The Basque was so shaken he could not speak a word, and it would have gone very badly for him, given Don Quijote's blind rage, except that the ladies in the coach, who had to this point been watching the combat in great distress, hurried over and most earnestly begged our knight to show them the greater grace, and extend to them the great favor, of sparing the life of their page.  To which Don Quijote replied, soberly and with great pride:
     "Certainly, lovely ladies: I am deeply pleased to do as you ask of me.  But only on one condition, and that is that this knight must promise and agree to journey to Toboso and present himself on my behalf to the peerless Dona Dulcinea, so that she may dispose of him as it best pleases her."
     Frightened and miserable not disputing a word or asking who Dulcinea might be, the ladies promised that their page would do everything that Don Quijote had ordered to be done.

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Miguel De Cervantes' Don Quijote, Volume 1, Chapter 9, page 53

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     Cervantes uses excessive description in these ten sentences.  He draws a picture in the reader's mind, but I am going to rewrite it in shorter sentences.

     Angry at the Basque for insulting him, Don Quijote hit the Basque with his sword.  The Basque blocked the blow with the cushion, but he was still wounded.  Blood flowed from his nose, mouth, and ears.  He tried desperately to stay on his mule, but it threw him to the ground in terror.
     Don Quijote approached the Basque and held his sword to the confused man's throat.  Don Quijote commanded the him to surrender, but the Basque was too dazed.  Just then, the women, who had been watching the coach, ran and begged Don Quijoting not to hurt their squire.
     "As long as your squire goes to Dona Dulcinea in Toboso and does what she says, I will not touch him." Replied Don Quijote.
     The terrified ladies agreed.

Don Quijote Fights the Basque

     And tossing his spear to the ground, he drew his sword, raised his shield, and attacked the Basque, determined to kill him.  Seeing him come, the Basque would have preferred to get down from his mule, which was a rented animal he could not trust, but had no choice except to draw his own sword.  Still, he was lucky enough to find himself near the coach, so he grabbed a cushion to use as his shield, and they had at it, exactly as if they'd been mortal enemies.  The others tried to settle the quarrel, but couldn't, because the Basque kept saying in his broken Spanish that if they didn't let him finish his fight he'd kill his mistress and everyone else who got in his way.  The lady in the coach, astonished and terrified by hat she saw, directed the coachman to drive off a bit, and from that distance prepared to watch that harsh battle -- and as that struggle went on, the Basque gave Don Quijote a great blow high on the shoulder, swinging over his shield, and had our knight not been in armor the thrust would have split him down to the waist.  Feeling the weight of this colossal blow, Don Quijote cried out, at the top of his lungs:
     "Oh lady of my soul, Dulcinea, flower of all beauty, help this knight of yours, who, to please your great goodness, now finds himself in this difficult situation!"
     He said all this, and tightened his grip on his sword, and held the shield high in front of him, attacked the Basque perfectly well, all at the same time, having made up his mind to trust everything to a single blow.

     Seeing him come at him this way, with such determination, the Basque perfectly well understood our knight's courage, and made up his mind to do exactly the same thing.  So he held himself ready, behind his upraised coach cushion, but could not turn his mule an inch in any direction, for the animal, totally exhausted and not meant for these particular games, couldn't so much as lift a hoof.

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Miguel De Cervantes' Don Quijote, Volume 1, Chapter 8, page 48

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     The book Don Quijote is full of crazy adventures and fun words; this particular part is my favorite.  The way that Cervantes describes the action is fantastic and greatly engages the reader's imagination.  As I read this specific passage, I could not help but picture the scene the way Cervantes intended it to be pictured.  An old man, sure he is a knight, charges the Basque, who is probably still spewing off bad words.  The Basque is about to dismount his old donkey, weary from the journey, but discovers he has too little time.  Instead, he grabs a cushion out of the coach, which probably causes the young ladies in it to shriek.  He holds the pillow in front of him for protection.
     Where did Cervantes get the hilarious idea of the man using a pillow?  A pillow?
     Then the two men battle like they were mortal enemies.  The phrase mortal enemies describes the expressions on each man's face and the thoughts in his head.  Cervantes did not have to use pages and pages to capture the reader's attention.  He was able to do it in a few sentences.  He did not waist time describing the ladies in the carriage or the coachman.  He knew those people were not vital to his story, so he spent more time describing what the readers do care about instead of boring them like other writers often do.
     In the passage, Don Quijote cries out to his imaginary lady in desperate help.  I could not help but laugh.  He is such a drama queen.  How it is that Sancho puts up with him just shows how foolish Sancho is.
     When Don Quijote goes after the Basque will full force, the Basque struggles with his donkey and again uses the pillow!  It is like a comedy routine.
     I love the book Don Quijote by Miguel De Cervantes' because of the creative expressions.

Gwendolen and Cecily Discover the Truth

[Enter Jack.]
Gwendolen.  [Catching sight of him.]  Ernest!  My own Ernest!
Jack.  Gwendolen!  Darling!  [Offers to kiss her.]
Gwendolen.  [Draws back.]  A moment!  May I ask if you are engaged to be married to this young lady?  [Points to Cecily.]
Jack.  [Laughing.]  To dear little Cecily!  Of course not!  What could have put such an idea into your pretty little head?
Gwendolen.  Thank you.  You may!  [Offers her cheek.]
Cecily.  [Very sweetly.]  I knew there must be some misunderstanding, Miss Fairfax.  The gentleman whose arm is at present round your waist is my guardian, Mr. John Worthing.
Gwendolen.  I beg your pardon?
Cecily.  This is Uncle Jack.
Gwendolen.  [Receding.]  Jack!  Oh!
[Enter Algernon.]
Cecily.  Here is Ernest.
Algernon.  [Goes straight over to Cecily without noticing any one else.]  My own love!  [Offers to kiss her.]
Cecily.  [Drawing back.]  A moment, Ernest!  May I ask you—are you engaged to be married to this young lady?
Algernon.  [Looking round.]  To what young lady?  Good heavens!  Gwendolen!
Cecily.  Yes! to good heavens, Gwendolen, I mean to Gwendolen.
Algernon.  [Laughing.]  Of course not!  What could have put such an idea into your pretty little head?
Cecily.  Thank you.  [Presenting her cheek to be kissed.]  You may.  [Algernon kisses her.]
Gwendolen.  I felt there was some slight error, Miss Cardew.  The gentleman who is now embracing you is my cousin, Mr. Algernon Moncrieff.
Cecily.  [Breaking away from Algernon.]  Algernon Moncrieff!  Oh!  [The two girls move towards each other and put their arms round each other’s waists as if for protection.]
Cecily.  Are you called Algernon?
Algernon.  I cannot deny it.
Cecily.  Oh!
Gwendolen.  Is your name really John?
Jack.  [Standing rather proudly.]  I could deny it if I liked.  I could deny anything if I liked.  But my name certainly is John.  It has been John for years.
Cecily.  [To Gwendolen.]  A gross deception has been practised on both of us.
Gwendolen.  My poor wounded Cecily!
Cecily.  My sweet wronged Gwendolen!
Gwendolen.  [Slowly and seriously.]  You will call me sister, will you not?  [They embrace.  Jack and Algernon groan and walk up and down.]
Cecily.  [Rather brightly.]  There is just one question I would like to be allowed to ask my guardian.
Gwendolen.  An admirable idea!  Mr. Worthing, there is just one question I would like to be permitted to put to you.  Where is your brother Ernest?  We are both engaged to be married to your brother Ernest, so it is a matter of some importance to us to know where your brother Ernest is at present.
Jack.  [Slowly and hesitatingly.]  Gwendolen—Cecily—it is very painful for me to be forced to speak the truth.  It is the first time in my life that I have ever been reduced to such a painful position, and I am really quite inexperienced in doing anything of the kind.  However, I will tell you quite frankly that I have no brother Ernest.  I have no brother at all.  I never had a brother in my life, and I certainly have not the smallest intention of ever having one in the future.
Cecily.  [Surprised.]  No brother at all?
Jack.  [Cheerily.]  None!
Gwendolen.  [Severely.]  Had you never a brother of any kind?
Jack.  [Pleasantly.]  Never.  Not even of an kind.
Gwendolen.  I am afraid it is quite clear, Cecily, that neither of us is engaged to be married to any one.
Cecily.  It is not a very pleasant position for a young girl suddenly to find herself in.  Is it?
Gwendolen.  Let us go into the house.  They will hardly venture to come after us there.
Cecily.  No, men are so cowardly, aren’t they?
[They retire into the house with scornful looks.]

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Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest, Act 2, page 84-87

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     In Oscar Wilde's comical play, The Importance of Being Earnest, the two main men lie to the ladies they love saying that both their names are Earnest.  This causes great confusion- for the women at least -and distrust.  Finding that there was never such a man named Earnest that they were engaged to, Gwendolen and Cecily stick together like best friends and reject the boys.

     In this play, I love that the boys created more trouble for themselves by lying.  Having realized that being dishonest did not help them one bit, but made things worse, the boys set forth to make things right, hoping the girls would forgive them.

     The girls are so funny in this when they think that one of them has stolen the other person's fiancee.  I love how they are sure they will be true friends, their rude behavior to each other, and then how quickly they go back together after everything is explained.  If only Jack and Algernon had never spoken dishonestly, yet then again, perhaps the ladies would never have given them a chance if they had known their true names.  Maybe being earnest was really not that important.

     Coming clean and proving that they really did care, the boys finally captured the hearts of their young loves.

Mr. Collins Proposes to Elisabeth

     As soon as they were gone Mr. Collins began.
     ``Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that your modesty, so far from doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. You would have been less amiable in my eyes had there not been this little unwillingness; but allow me to assure you that I have your respected mother's permission for this address... Almost as soon as I entered the house I singled you out as the companion of my future life. But before I am run away with by my feelings on this subject, perhaps it will be advisable for me to state my reasons for marrying -- and moreover for coming into Hertfordshire with the design of selecting a wife, as I certainly did.''
     The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure, being run away with by his feelings, made Elizabeth so near laughing that she could not use the short pause he allowed in any attempt to stop him farther, and he continued:
     ``My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right thing for every clergyman in easy circumstances (like myself) to set the example of matrimony in his parish. Secondly, that I am convinced it will add very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly... it is the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honour of calling patroness... I am to inherit this estate after the death of your honoured father (who, however, may live many years longer), I could not satisfy myself without resolving to chuse a wife from among his daughters, that the loss to them might be as little as possible, when the melancholy event takes place -- which, however, as I have already said, may not be for several years. This has been my motive, my fair cousin...''
     It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now.
     ``You are too hasty, Sir,'' she cried. ``You forget that I have made no answer. Let me do it without farther loss of time. Accept my thanks for the compliment you are paying me, I am very sensible of the honour of your proposals, but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than decline them.''
     ``I am not now to learn,'' replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the hand, ``that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second or even a third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long.''
     ``Upon my word, Sir,'' cried Elizabeth, ``your hope is rather an extraordinary one after my declaration. I do assure you that I am not one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal. -- You could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who would make you so, -- Nay, were your friend Lady Catherine to know me, I am persuaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified for the situation.''
     ``Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so,'' said Mr. Collins very gravely -- ``but I cannot imagine that her ladyship would at all disapprove of you. And you may be certain that when I have the honour of seeing her again I shall speak in the highest terms of your modesty, economy, and other amiable qualifications.''
     ``Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You must give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the compliment of believing what I say. I wish you very happy and very rich, and by refusing your hand, do all in my power to prevent your being otherwise. In making me the offer, you must have satisfied the delicacy of your feelings with regard to my family, and may take possession of Longbourn estate whenever it falls, without any self-reproach. This matter may be considered, therefore, as finally settled.'' And rising as she thus spoke, she would have quitted the room, had not Mr. Collins thus addressed her,
     ``When I do myself the honour of speaking to you next on this subject I shall hope to receive a more favourable answer than you have now given me; though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at present, because I know it to be the established custom of your sex to reject a man on the first application, and perhaps you have even now said as much to encourage my suit as would be consistent with the true delicacy of the female character.''
     ``Really, Mr. Collins,'' cried Elizabeth with some warmth, ``you puzzle me exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to you in the form of encouragement, I know not how to express my refusal in such a way as may convince you of its being one.''
     ``You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that your refusal of my addresses is merely words of course. My reasons for believing it are briefly these: -- It does not appear to me that my hand is unworthy your acceptance... and you should take it into farther consideration that in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you... I must therefore conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me...''
     ``I do assure you, Sir, that I have no pretension whatever to that kind of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man. I would rather be paid the compliment of being believed sincere. I thank you again and again for the honour you have done me in your proposals, but to accept them is absolutely impossible. My feelings in every respect forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not consider me now as an elegant female intending to plague you, but as a rational creature speaking the truth from her heart.''
     ``You are uniformly charming!'' cried he, with an air of awkward gallantry; ``and I am persuaded that when sanctioned by the express authority of both your excellent parents, my proposals will not fail of being acceptable.''
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Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 19, page 103-106

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     Although much to Elizabeth Bennet's dismay, Mr. Collins proposed to her.  His manner in doing so was rather rude in that he stated that his reasons for his marrying her were that she would make him happy; he was doing her a favor since he would inherit Longbourn, her family estate, anyway when her father died; no one else would ever propose to her since her family was so poor.  The way that Mr. Collins spoke sounded as though Elizabeth had no choice, which was something that made her distressed to start out with.
     Mr. Collins was not being wise, for he had been with the Bennet family for a little while and should have understood that none of them liked him- with the possible exception of Mrs. Bennet.  He also, when he proposed to Elizabeth, treated her as though she were below him.  He did flatter her somewhat, but at the same time, by waving his hand the first time she refused, made it appear that her opinions were not worth anything to him.  It was also insulting her by implying she was like every other girl and would give in to him soon enough.  Furthermore, his mentioning that her father would die and leave them all homeless was true but did not improve her thoughts of him.  It made it sound like he was only going to marry her because he pitied her.
     On the other hand, Elizabeth was not the most respectful in how she rejected him, for she did it rather bluntly, however, she was making an effort to be honest and not get his hopes up too high.  Rejection is always painful, so she was attempting to get it over as quickly as possible.  His dragging it on and on made things more awkward and her more determined to discourage him.  Her saying, 'My feelings in every respect forbid it' was rather harsh, but she felt like she had to say something stronger in order to get it through to him that she was not the least bit interested in him.  She really was trying not to hurt him- or the relationship between him and her father - but being that she had not had much experience in declining marriage proposals, she did was running out of polite things to say.
     Mr. Collins' proposal was an unfortunate mistake on his part.  It could have possibly been avoided if he had been smarter in his manner.