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I feel monotony and death to be almost the same.

Charlotte Bronte

I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh: it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God’s feet, equal–as we are!
CHARLOTTE BRONTE

Addresses Feet Talk
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

Arm Lamb Shepherds
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

Reason Strikes Struck
He was the first to recognise me, and to love what he saw.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE

First Recognise Saw
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

Grief Love Struggle
I think you will learn to be natural with me, as I find it impossible to be conventional with you
CHARLOTTE BRONTE

Impossible Natural Think
Presentiments are strange things: and so are sympathies; and so are signs; and the three combined make one mystery to which humanity has not yet found the key.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE

Humanity Key Three
You — 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 BRONTE

Flesh Husband Love Thing
Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion. To attack the first is not to assail the last.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE

Independence Last Self
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

Grave Mistake Quiet Wish
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

Ocean Sea Sunrise Sunset
Poverty, for me, is synonymous with degradation.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE

Degradation Poverty Synonymous
Remorse is the poison of life.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE

Poison Regret Remorse
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

Grave Mistake Talk Wish
I am no bird and no net ensnares me
CHARLOTTE BRONTE

Bird Country Ensnare Person
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

Arms Lamb Shepherd

I feel monotony and death to be almost the same.

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I feel monotony and death to be almost the same.

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