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 BRONTEI mentally shake hands with you for your answer, despite its inaccuracy.” Mr. Rochester
More Charlotte Bronte Quotes
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Adversity is a good school.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
The 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 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 -
There is nothing I fear so much as idleness, the want of occupation, inactivity, the lethargy of the faculties; when the body is idle, the spirit suffers painfully.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
After a youth and manhood passed half in unutterable misery and half in dreary solitude, I have for the first time found what I can truly love–I have found you.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
Reader, I married him.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
Your will shall decide your destiny.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
Crying does not indicate that you are weak. Since birth, it has always been a sign that you are alive.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
I am not your dear; I cannot lie down: send me to school soon, Mrs. Reed, for I hate to live here.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
You, Jane, I must have you for my own–entirely my own.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
Tact, if it be genuine, never sleeps.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
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 -
If men could see us as we really are, they would be a little amazed.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
Flirting is a woman’s trade, one must keep in practice.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
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 BRONTE