The vehemence of emotion, stirred by grief and love within me, was claiming mastery, and struggling for full sway; and asserting a right to predominate: to overcome, to live, rise, and reign at last; yes,–and to speak.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEThe vehemence of emotion, stirred by grief and love within me, was claiming mastery, and struggling for full sway; and asserting a right to predominate: to overcome, to live, rise, and reign at last; yes,–and to speak.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEYou transfix me quite.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEYour will shall decide your destiny.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEIf men could see us as we really are, they would be a little amazed.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEBetter to be without logic than without feeling.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEToo often do reviewers remind us of the mob of Astrologers, Chaldeans, and Soothsayers gathered before ‘the writing on the wall’ and unable to read the characters or make known the interpretation.
CHARLOTTE BRONTERochester: I am to take mademoiselle to the moon, and there I shall seek a cave in one of the white valleys among the volcano-tops, and mademoiselle shall live with me there, and only me.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEReader, I married him.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEIt would not be wicked to love me.” “It would to obey you.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEThe cool peace and dewy sweetness of the night filled me with a mood of hope: not hope on any definite point, but a general sense of encouragement and heart-ease.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEThe trouble is not that I am single and likely to stay single, but that I am lonely and likely to stay lonely.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEThat to begin with; let respect be the foundation, affection the first floor, love the superstructure.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEI can live alone, if self-respect, and circumstances require me so to do. I need not sell my soul to buy bliss. I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld, or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEYou transfix me quite.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEI like to see flowers growing, but when they are gathered, they cease to please. I look on them as things rootless and perishable; their likeness to life makes me sad. I never offer flowers to those I love; I never wish to receive them from hands dear to me.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEI mentally shake hands with you for your answer, despite its inaccuracy.” Mr. Rochester
CHARLOTTE BRONTE