The trouble is not that I am single and likely to stay single, but that I am lonely and likely to stay lonely.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEMemory in youth is active and easily impressible; in old age it is comparatively callous to new impressions, but still retains vividly those of earlier years.
More Charlotte Bronte Quotes
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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 -
Better to be without logic than without feeling.
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 -
Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion. To attack the first is not to assail the last.
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 -
Oh! that gentleness! how far more potent is it than force!
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
If men could see us as we really are, they would be a little amazed.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
I had a theoretical reverence and homage for beauty, elegance, gallantry, fascination but had I met those qualities incarnate in masculine shape, I should have known instinctively that they had nor could have sympathy with anything in me.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
Memory in youth is active and easily impressible; in old age it is comparatively callous to new impressions, but still retains vividly those of earlier years.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
Remorse is the poison of life.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
You transfix me quite.
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 -
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 -
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 -
Oh 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 BRONTE -
Your will shall decide your destiny.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
You transfix me quite.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
It is a pity that doing one’s best does not always answer.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
For I too liked reading, thought of a frivolous and childish kind; I could not digest or comprehend the serious or substantial.
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 -
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 -
Jane Eyre “I desired more…than was within my reach. Who blames me? Many call me discontented. I couldn’t help it: the restlessness is in my nature; it agitated me to pain sometimes.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
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 BRONTE -
A depressing and difficult passage has prefaced every page I have turned in life.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
You have rather the look of another world. I marvelled where you had got that sort of face.
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