I 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 BRONTEIt is a pity that doing one’s best does not always answer.
More Charlotte Bronte Quotes
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Good-night, my-” He stopped, bit his lip, and abruptly left me.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
Crying does not indicate that you are weak. Since birth, it has always been a sign that you are alive.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
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 BRONTE -
I am no bird and no net ensnares me
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
You transfix me quite.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
Adversity is a good school.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
There is, in lovers, a certain infatuation of egotism; they will have a witness of their happiness, cost that witness what it may.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
I 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 BRONTE -
Tact, if it be genuine, never sleeps.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
The idea of seeing the sea – of being near it – watching its changes by sunrise, sunset, moonlight, and noonday – in calm, perhaps in storm – fills and satisfies my mind.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
When we are struck at without a reason, we should strike back again very hard; I am sure we should – so hard as to teach the person who struck us never to do it again.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
I have no wish to talk nonsense.” “If you did, it would be in such a grave, quiet manner, I should mistake it for sense.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
Your will shall decide your destiny.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
I seem to have gathered up a stray lamb in my arms: you wandered out of the fold to seek your shepherd, did you, Jane?
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
All my heart is yours, sir: it belongs to you; and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from your presence forever.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE