I doubt if I have made the best use of all my calamities. Soft, amiable natures they would have refined to saintliness; of strong, evil spirits they would have made demons; as for me, I have only been a woe-struck and selfish woman.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEI doubt if I have made the best use of all my calamities. Soft, amiable natures they would have refined to saintliness; of strong, evil spirits they would have made demons; as for me, I have only been a woe-struck and selfish woman.
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 BRONTEI 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 BRONTEA depressing and difficult passage has prefaced every page I have turned in life.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEI think you will learn to be natural with me, as I find it impossible to be conventional with you
CHARLOTTE BRONTEMademoiselle is a fairy,” he said, whispering mysteriously.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEYour will shall decide your destiny.
CHARLOTTE BRONTECrying does not indicate that you are weak. Since birth, it has always been a sign that you are alive.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEI am not your dear; I cannot lie down: send me to school soon, Mrs. Reed, for I hate to live here.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEIf he does go, the change will be doleful. Suppose he should be absent spring, summer, and autumn: how joyless sunshine and fine days will seem!
CHARLOTTE BRONTEWhen 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 BRONTEWould you not be happier if you tried to forget her severity, together with the passionate emotions it excited? Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity, or registering wrongs.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEHe was the first to recognise me, and to love what he saw.
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 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 BRONTEI 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