[jɔː;jʊə] or [jʊr,jɔr,jor,jə]
(pron. & a.) The form of the possessive case of the personal pronoun you.
pron. poss. of you: belonging to you: (Shak.) used to denote a class or species well known the use implying something of contempt.—Yourn (prov.) yours.
Inputed by Harvey
- Your circle is rather different from ours. George Eliot. Middlemarch.
- Bring out your vouchers, and don't talk Jerusalem palaver. Charles Dickens. Our Mutual Friend.
- Now, Mr. Hilton Cubitt, please continue your most interesting statement. Arthur Conan Doyle. The Return of Sherlock Holmes.
- Have you found your first day's work harder than you expected? Charlotte Bronte. Jane Eyre.
- Where's your friend? Charles Dickens. Our Mutual Friend.
- Which means, I suppose, that you are not quite clear about your case? Arthur Conan Doyle. The Return of Sherlock Holmes.
- But men of your character are mostly so independent. Thomas Hardy. The Return of the Native.
- Your decisions are perfectly judicious, madam, returned Mr. Brocklehurst. Charlotte Bronte. Jane Eyre.
- And the bulk of your fortune would be laid out in annuities on the authors or their heirs. Jane Austen. Sense and Sensibility.
- Your stepson, if Mr. Rigg Featherstone was he, is here no longer. George Eliot. Middlemarch.
- I should like to know in what I'm your inferior? William Makepeace Thackeray. Vanity Fair.
- Do you think I don't know the foulness of your sex life--and her's? D. H. Lawrence. Women in Love .
- Name your day, and I will come. Jane Austen. Emma.
- Don't be afraid of me: you needn't squeeze yourself back into your corner like that. Edith Wharton. The Age of Innocence.
- Mr. Rochester, let me look at your face: turn to the moonlight. Charlotte Bronte. Jane Eyre.
- Well, at least, said Holmes, you have had your revenge upon them. Arthur Conan Doyle. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.
- I made myself known to your sister. Charles Dickens. Little Dorrit.
- Give my love to your aunt, George dear, and implore her not to curse the viper that has crossed your path and blighted your existence. Charles Dickens. Our Mutual Friend.
- What's he up to in the case of your friend the handsome gal? Charles Dickens. Our Mutual Friend.
- I am to understand, then, that you hold by the determination expressed in your letter? Wilkie Collins. The Woman in White.
- While there's a handful of fire or a mouthful of bed in this present roof, you're fully welcome to your share on it. Charles Dickens. Little Dorrit.
- Then, collecting himself, he added in his usual tone, And what may it be your pleasure to want at so early an hour with the poor Jew? Walter Scott. Ivanhoe.
- My next words, as true as the good God is above us, will put my life into your hands. Wilkie Collins. The Woman in White.
- Your eccentricity and conceit touch the verge of frenzy. Charlotte Bronte. Shirley.
- Your marriage was your own doing, not mine. William Makepeace Thackeray. Vanity Fair.
- Dead, your Majesty. Charles Dickens. Bleak House.
- Let her footstep, as she comes and goes, in these pages, be like that other footstep to whose airy fall your own heart once beat time. Wilkie Collins. The Woman in White.
- I now take my farewell of your ladyship, and assure you that there's no danger of your ever being waited on by me again. Charles Dickens. Bleak House.
- There--take away your property. George Eliot. Middlemarch.
- On account of your approaching marriage with her? Thomas Hardy. The Return of the Native.
Inputed by Harvey