You have rather the look of another world. I marvelled where you had got that sort of face.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEYou have rather the look of another world. I marvelled where you had got that sort of face.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEI could not answer the ceaseless inward question-why I thus suffered; now, at the distance of-I will not say how many years, I see it clearly.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEI feel monotony and death to be almost the same.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEOh madam, when you put bread and cheese, instead of burnt porridge, into these children’s mouths, you may indeed feed their vile bodies, but you little think how you starve their immortal souls!
CHARLOTTE BRONTEYou, Jane, I must have you for my own–entirely my own.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEThank you, Mr. Rochester, for your great kindness. I am strangely glad to get back again to you: and wherever you are is my home—my only home.
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 BRONTEYou transfix me quite.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEPoverty, for me, is synonymous with degradation.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEAdversity is a good school.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEI do not think, sir, you have any right to command me, merely because you are older than I, or because you have seen more of the world than I have; your claim to superiority depends on the use you have made of your time and experience.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEYou — you strange — you almost unearthly thing! — I love as my own flesh. You — poor and obscure, and small and plain as you are — I entreat to accept me as a husband.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEMy home is humble and unattractive to strangers, but to me it contains what I shall find nowhere else in the world – the … affection which brothers and sisters feel for each other.
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 BRONTEI am not your dear; I cannot lie down: send me to school soon, Mrs. Reed, for I hate to live here.
CHARLOTTE BRONTENo mockery in this world ever sounds to me so hollow as that of being told to cultivate happiness. What does such advice mean? Happiness is not a potato, to be planted in mould, and tilled with manure.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE