Mademoiselle is a fairy,” he said, whispering mysteriously.
CHARLOTTE BRONTEHe was the first to recognise me, and to love what he saw.
More Charlotte Bronte Quotes
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I could not answer the ceaseless inward question-why I thus suffered; now, at the distance of-I will not say how many years, I see it clearly.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
Better to be without logic than without feeling.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
as much good-will may be conveyed in one hearty word as in many.
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 -
Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion. To attack the first is not to assail the last.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
Poverty, for me, is synonymous with degradation.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE -
If 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 BRONTE -
You transfix me quite.
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 -
Remorse is the poison of life.
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 -
I can live alone, if self-respect, and circumstances require me so to do. I need not sell my soul to buy bliss. I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld, or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give.
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 -
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 -
Good-night, my-” He stopped, bit his lip, and abruptly left me.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE