Mr. Collins was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature had been but little assisted by education or society . . .
I am not romantic, you know; I never was.
It does not appear to me that my hand is unworthy your acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer would be any other than highly desirable.
If you were to give me forty such men, I never could be so happy as you. Till I have your disposition, your goodness, I never can have your happiness. No, no, let me shift for myself; and, perhaps, if I have very good luck, I may meet with another Mr. Collins in time.