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I Recalled The Voice I Had Heard; Again I Questioned Whence It Came, As Vainly As Before: It Seemed In Me Not In The External World. I Asked, Was It A Mere Nervous Impression A Delusion? I Could Not Conceive Or Believe: It Was More Like An Inspiration.

-Charlotte Bronte

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I Recalled The Voice

Charlotte Bronte

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I Recalled The Voice I Had Heard; Again I Questioned Whence It Came, As Vainly As Before: It Seemed In Me Not In The External World. I Asked, Was It A Mere Nervous Impression A Delusion? I Could Not Conceive Or Believe: It Was More Like An Inspiration.

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More From Charlotte Bronte

I Care For Myself. The More Solitary, The More Friendless, The More Unsustained I Am, The More I Will Respect Myself.

My Future Husband Was Becoming To Me My Whole World; And More Than The World: Almost My Hope Of Heaven. He Stood Between Me And Every Thought Of Religion, As An Eclipse Intervenes Between Man And The Broad Sun. I Could Not, In Those Days, See God For His Creature: Of Whom I Had Made An Idol.

I Mentally Shake Hands With You For Your Answer, Despite Its Inaccuracy." Mr. Rochester

It Seems To Me, Monsieur, That There Is Nothing More Galling In Great Physical Misfortunes Than To Be Compelled To Make All Those About Us Share In Our Sufferings. The Ills Of The Soul One Can Hide, But Those Which Attack The Body And Destroy The Faculties Cannot Be Concealed.

The Soul, Fortunately, Has An Interpreter - Often An Unconscious, But Still A Truthful Interpreter - In The Eye.

I Feel Monotony And Death To Be Almost The Same.

It Does Good To No Woman To Be Flattered [by A Man] Who Does Not Intend To Marry Her; And It Is Madness In All Women To Let A Secret Love Kindle Within Them, Which, If Unreturned And Unknown, Must Devour The Life That Feeds It; And, If Discovered And Responded To, Must Lead, Ignis-fatuus-like, Into Miry Wilds Whence There Is No Extrication.

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!

Everyone Else Is Just Cocktails.

As To The Mouth, It Delights At Times In Laughter; It Is Disposed To Impart All That The Brain Conceives; Though I Daresay It Would Be Silent On Much The Heart Experiences. Mobile And Flexible, It Was Never Intended To Be Compressed In The Eternal Silence Of Solitude: It Is A Mouth Which Should Speak Much And Smile Often, And Have Human Affection For Its Interlocutor.

The Word Book Acted As A Transient Stimulus

Self Abandoned, Relaxed And Effortless, I Seemed To Have Laid Me Down In The Dried-up Bed Of A Great River; I Heard A Flood Loosened In Remote Mountains, I Felt The Torrent Come; To Rise I Had No Will, To Flee I Had No Strength.

There Are Certain Phrases Potent To Make My Blood Boil -- Improper Influence! What Old Woman's Cackle Is That?" "are You A Young Lady?" "i Am A Thousand Times Better: I Am An Honest Woman, And As Such I Will Be Treated.

Reader, I Literally Married Him.

I Believe She Thought I Had Forgotten My Station; And Yours, Sir.' 'station! Station!-- Your Station Is In My Heart, And On The Necks Of Those Who Would Insult You, Now Or Hereafter.

Poverty, For Me, Is Synonymous With Degradation.

I Have Little Left In Myself -- I Must Have You. The World May Laugh -- May Call Me Absurd, Selfish -- But It Does Not Signify. My Very Soul Demands You: It Will Be Satisfied, Or It Will Take Deadly Vengeance On Its Frame.

All My Heart Is Yours, Sir: It Belongs To You; And With You It Would Remain, Were Fate To Exile The Rest Of Me From Your Presence Forever.

Consistency, Madam, Is The First Of Christian Duties.

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?

Women Are Supposed To Be Very Calm Generally: But Women Feel Just As Men Feel; They Need Exercise For Their Faculties, And A Field For Their Efforts As Much As Their Brothers Do; They Suffer From Too Rigid A Restraint, Too Absolute A Stagnation, Precisely As Men Would Suffer; And It Is Narrow-minded In Their More Privileged Fellow-creatures To Say That They Ought To Confine Themselves To Making Puddings And Knitting Stockings, To Playing On The Piano And Embroidering Bags.

Tact, If It Be Genuine, Never Sleeps.

It Is Far Better To Endure Patiently A Smart Which Nobody Feels But Yourself, Than To Commit A Hasty Action Whose Evil Consequences Will Extend To All Connected With You.

My Home Is Humble And Unattractive To Strangers, But To Me It Contains What I Shall Find Nowhere Else In The World - The ... Affection Which Brothers And Sisters Feel For Each Other.

It Is A Long Way Off, Sir" "from What Jane?" "from England And From Thornfield: And ___" "well?" "from You, Sir

Every Atom Of Your Flesh Is As Dear To Me As My Own: In Pain And Sickness It Would Still Be Dear.

Something Of Vengeance I Had Tasted For The First Time; As Aromatic Wine It Seemed, On Swallowing, Warm And Racy: Its After-flavour, Metallic And Corroding, Gave Me A Sensation As If I Had Been Poisoned.

I Like The Spirit Of This Great London Which I Feel Around Me. Who But A Coward Would Pass His Whole Life In Hamlets; And For Ever Abandon His Faculties To The Eating Rust Of Obscurity?

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.

The Human And Fallible Should Not Arrogate A Power With Which The Divine And Perfect Alone Can Be Safely Intrusted.

I Am Not Your Dear; I Cannot Lie Down: Send Me To School Soon, Mrs. Reed, For I Hate To Live Here.

Liberty Lends Us Her Wings And Hope Guides Us By Her Star.

I Both Wished And Feared To See Mr. Rochester On The Day Which Followed This Sleepless Night. I Wanted To Hear His Voice Again, Yet Feared To Meet His Eye.

I Shall Be Thirty-one Next Birthday. My Youth Is Gone Like A Dream; And Very Little Use Have I Ever Made Of It. What Have I Done These Last Thirty Years? Precious Little.

I Am Not An Angel,' I Asserted; 'and I Will Not Be One Till I Die: I Will Be Myself. Mr. Rochester, You Must Neither Expect Nor Exact Anything Celestial Of Me - For You Will Not Get It, Any More Than I Shall Get It Of You: Which I Do Not At All Anticipate.

To See And Know The Worst Is To Take From Fear Her Main Advantage.

You Can Write Nothing Of Value Unless You Give Yourself Wholly To The The Theme -- And When You So Give Yourself -- You Lose Appetite Ans Sleep -- It Cannot Be Helped --

No Reflection Was To Be Allowed Now, Not One Glance Was To Be Cast Back; Not Even One Forward. Not One Thought Was To Be Given Either To The Past Or The Future. The First Was A Page So Heavenly Sweet, So Deadly Sad, That To Read One Line Of It Would Dissolve My Courage And Break Down My Energy. The Last Was An Awful Blank, Something Like Then World When The Deluge Was Gone By.

Misery Generates Hate.

Even For Me Life Had Its Gleams Of Sunshine.

Better To Try All Things And Find All Empty, Than To Try Nothing And Leave Your Life A Blank.

Adversity Is A Good School.

Prodigious Was The Amount Of Life I Lived That Morning.

I Like This Day; I Like That Sky Of Steel; I Like The Sternness And Stillness Of The World Under This Frost.

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.

The City Seems So Much More In Earnest: Its Business, Its Rush, Its Roar Are Such Serious Things, Sights And Sounds. The City Is Getting Its Living - The West-end But Enjoying Its Pleasure.

For Those Who Are Not Hungry, It Is Easy To Palaver About The Degradation Of Charity.

Jane, My Little Darling (so I Will Call You, For So You Are), You Don't Know What You Are Talking About; You Misjudge Me Again: It Is Not Because She Is Mad I Hate Her. If You Were Mad, Do You Think I Should Hate You?

Life Is So Constructed, That The Event Does Not, Cannot, Will Not, Match The Expectation.

No Mockery In This World Ever Sounds To Me So Hollow As That Of Being Told To Cultivate Happiness. What Does Such Advice Mean? Happiness Is Not A Potato, To Be Planted In Mould, And Tilled With Manure. Happiness Is A Glory Shining Far Down Upon Us Out Of Heaven. She Is A Divine Dew Which The Soul, On Certain Of Its Summer Mornings, Feels Dropping Upon It From The Amaranth Bloom And Golden Fruitage Of Paradise.

I Thought I Loved Him When He Went Away; I Love Him Now In Another Degree: He Is More My Own. [ . . . ] Oh! A Thousand Weepers, Praying In Agony On Waiting Shores, Listened For That Voice, But It Was Not Uttered--not Uttered Till; When The Hush Came, Some Could Not Feel It: Till, When The Sun Returned, His Light Was Night To Some!

I Grant An Ugly Woman Is A Blot On The Fair Face Of Creation; But As To The Gentleman, Let Them Be Solicitous To Possess Only Strength And Valour: Let Their Motto Be:hunt, Shoot, And Fight: The Rest Is Not Worth A Flip.

You, Sir, Are The Most Phantom-like Of All; You Are A Mere Dream

Wise People Say It Is Folly To Think Anybody Perfect; And As To Likes And Dislikes, We Should Be Friendly To All, And Worship None

Likes And Dislikes

No Mockery In This World Ever Sounds To Me So Hollow As That Of Being Told To Cultivate Happiness. What Does Such Advice Mean? Happiness Is Not A Potato, To Be Planted In Mould, And Tilled With Manure.

He Was The First To Recognise Me, And To Love What He Saw.

I Was No Pope - I Could Not Boast Infallibility.

Your Station Is In My Heart, And On The Necks Of Those Who Would Insult You.

Take My Love. One Day Share My Life. Be My Dearest, First On Earth.

Let Your Performance Do The Thinking.

You Never Felt Jealousy, Did You, Miss Eyre? Of Course Not: I Need Not Ask You; Because You Never Felt Love. You Have Both Sentiments Yet To Experience: Your Soul Sleeps; The Shock Is Yet To Be Given Which Shall Waken It.

I Could Not Unlove Him Now, Merely Because I Found That He Had Ceased To Notice Me.

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.

The Trouble Is Not That I Am Single And Likely To Stay Single, But That I Am Lonely And Likely To Stay Lonely.

No Severe Or Prolonged Bodily Illness Followed This Incident Of The Red-room: It Only Gave My Nerves A Shock, Of Which I Feel The Reverberation To This Day.

We Know That God Is Everywhere; But Certainly We Feel His Presence Most When His Works Are On The Grandest Scale Spread Before Us; And It Is In The Unclouded Night-sky, Where His Worlds Wheel Their Silent Course, That We Read Clearest His Infinitude, His Omnipotence, His Omnipresence.

It Is Always The Way Of Events In This Life,...no Sooner Have You Got Settled In A Pleasant Resting Place, Than A Voice Calls Out To You To Rise And Move On, For The Hour Of Repose Is Expired.

Human Beings Must Have Action; And They Will Make It If They Cannot Find It.

Sir,' I Interrupted Him, 'you Are Inexorable For That Unfortunate Lady; You Speak Of Her With Hate --- With Vindictive Antipathy. It Is Cruel --- She Cannot Help Being Mad.

I Remembered That The Real World Was Wide, And That A Varied Field Of Hopes And Fears, Of Sensations And Excitments, Awaited Those Who Had The Courage To Go Forth Into It's Expanse, To Seek Real Knowledge Of Life Amidst It's Perils.

Monsieur, Sit Down; Listen To Me. I Am Not A Heathen, I Am Not Hard-hearted, I Am Not Unchristian, I Am Not Dangerous, As They Tell You; I Would Not Trouble Your Faith; You Believe In God And Christ And The Bible, And So Do I.

God Waits Only The Separation Of Spirit From Flesh To Crown Us With A Full Reward. Why, Then, Should We Ever Sink Overwhelmed With Distress, When Life Is So Soon Over, And Death Is So Certain An Entrance To Happiness -- To Glory?

He Is Not To Them What He Is To Me.

Friends Always Forget Those Whom Fortune Forsakes.

If You Don't Love Another Living Soul, Then You'll Never Be Disappointed.

At Heart, He Could Not Abide Sense In Women: He Liked To See Them As Silly, As Light-headed, As Vain, As Open To Ridicule As Possible; Because They Were Then In Reality What He Held Them To Be, And Wished Them To Be,--inferior: Toys To Play With, To Amuse A Vacant Hour And To Be Thrown Away.

Human Beings Must Love Something, And, In The Dearth Of Worthier Objects Of Affection, I Contrived To Find A Pleasure In Loving And Cherishing A Faded Graven Image, Shabby As A Miniature Scarecrow. It Puzzles Me Now To Remember With What Absurd Sincerity I Doated On This Little Toy, Half Fancying It Alive And Capable Of Sensation. I Could Not Sleep Unless It Was Folded In My Night-gown; And When It Lay There Safe And Warm, I Was Comparatively Happy, Believing It To Be Happy Likewise.

Fair As A Lily, And Not Only The Pride Of Life, But The Desire Of His Eyes

Spring Drew On... And A Greenness Grew Over Those Brown Beds, Which, Freshening Daily, Suggested The Thought That Hope Traversed Them At Night And Left Each Morning Brighter Traces Of Her Steps.

You Have Introduced A Topic On Which Our Natures Are At Variance - A Topic We Should Never Discuss: The Very Name Of Love Is An Apple Of Discord Between Us. If The Reality Were Required, What Should We Do? How Should We Feel? My Dear Cousin, Abandon Your Scheme Of Marriage - Forget It.

Nervous Alarms Should Always Be Communicated, That They May Be Dissipated.

If You Are Cast In A Different Mould To The Majority, It Is No Merit Of Yours: Nature Did It.

To Women Who Please Me Only By Their Faces, I Am The Very Devil When I Find Out They Have Neither Souls Nor Hearts — When They Open To Me A Perspective Of Flatness, Triviality, And Perhaps Imbecility, Coarseness, And Ill-temper: But To The Clear Eye And Eloquent Tongue, To The Soul Made Of Fire, And The Character That Bends But Does Not Break — At Once Supple And Stable, Tractable And Consistent — I Am Ever Tender And True. (mr Rochester To Jane)

Jane, I Never Meant To Wound You Thus...will You Ever Forgive Me?" Reader, I Forgave Him At The Moment And On The Spot.

Novelists Should Never Allow Themselves To Weary Of The Study Of Real Life.

Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Gazer.

The Eagerness Of A Listener Quickens The Tongue Of A Narrator.

My Love Has Placed Her Little Hand With Noble Faith In Mine, And Vowed That Wedlock's Sacred Band Our Nature Shall Entwine. My Love Has Sworn, With Sealing Kiss, With Me To Live -- To Die; I Have At Last My Nameless Bliss: As I Love -- Loved Am I!

My Fine Visions Are All Very Well, But I Must Not Forget They Are Absolutely Unreal. I Have A Rosy Sky And A Green Flowery Eden In My Brain; But Without, I Am Perfectly Aware, Lies At My Feet A Rough Tract To Travel, And Around Me Gather Black Tempests To Encounter.

Silence Is Of Different Kinds, And Breathes Different Meanings.

My Sister Emily Loved The Moors. Flowers Brighter Than The Rose Bloomed In The Blackest Of The Heath For Her; Out Of A Sullen Hollow In A Livid Hillside Her Mind Could Make An Eden. She Found In The Bleak Solitude Many And Dear Delights; And Not The Least And Best-loved Was – Liberty.

What Tale Do You Like Best To Hear?' 'oh, I Have Not Much Choice! They Generally Run On The Same Theme - Courtship; And Promise To End In The Same Catastrophe - Marriage.

[i]n His Presence I Thoroughly Lived.

Life Appears To Me Too Short To Be Spent In Nursing Animosity, Or Registering Wrongs.

A Ruffled Mind Makes A Restless Pillow.

Oh, I Am Not Going To Die, Am I? He Will Not Separate Us, We Have Been So Happy.

Famous Last Words

There Is, I Am Convinced, No Picture That Conveys In All Its Dreadfulness, A Vision Of Sorrow, Despairing, Remediless, Supreme. If I Could Paint Such A Picture, The Canvas Would Show Only A Woman Looking Down At Her Empty Arms.

Remorse Is The Poison Of Life.

True Enthusiasm Is A Fine Feeling Whose Flash I Admire Where-ever I See It.

Writers Cannot Choose Their Own Mood: With Them It Is Not Always Hide-tide, Nor --thank Heaven!--always Storm.

And With That Answer, He Left Me. I Would Much Rather He Had Knocked Me Down.

One Does Not Jump, And Spring, And Shout Hurrah! At Hearing One Has Got A Fortune, One Begins To Consider Responsibilities, And To Ponder Business; On A Base Of Steady Satisfaction Rise Certain Grave Cares, And We Contain Ourselves, And Brood Over Our Bliss With A Solemn Brow.

You Transfix Me Quite.

Good-night, My-" He Stopped, Bit His Lip, And Abruptly Left Me.

I Try To Avoid Looking Forward Or Backward, And Try To Keep Looking Upward.

Good Fortune Opens The Hand As Well As The Heart Wonderfully; And To Give Somewhat When We Have Largely Received, But To Afford A Vent To The Unusual Ebullition Of The Sensations.

I Must, Then, Repeat Continually That We Are Forever Sundered - And Yet, While I Breathe And Think, I Must Love Him.' - Jane Eyre

Conventionality Is Not Morality. Self-righteousness Is Not Religion. To Attack The First Is Not To Assail The Last.

You Have Rather The Look Of Another World. I Marvelled Where You Had Got That Sort Of Face.

I Tired Of The Routine Of Eight Years In One Afternoon.

Out Of Association Grows Adhesion, And Out Of Adhesion Amalgamation.

Life Is Still Life, Whatever Its Pangs; Our Eyes And Ears And Their Use Remain With Us, Though The Prospect Of What Pleases Be Wholly Withdrawn, And The Sound Of What Consoles Must Be Silenced.

Rochester: I Am To Take Mademoiselle To The Moon, And There I Shall Seek A Cave In One Of The White Valleys Among The Volcano-tops, And Mademoiselle Shall Live With Me There, And Only Me.

I Longed For A Power Of Vision Which Might Overpass That Limit; Which Might Reach The Busy World, Towns, Regions Full Of Life I Had Heard Of But Never Seen: That I Desired More Of Practical Experience Than I Possessed; More Of Intercourse With My Kind, Of Acquaintance With Variety Of Character, Than Was Here Within My Reach.

That To Begin With; Let Respect Be The Foundation, Affection The First Floor, Love The Superstructure.

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.

I Can Be On Guard Against My Enemies, But God Deliver Me From My Friends!

Flattery Would Be Worse Than Vain; There Is No Consolation In Flattery.

It Is Hard Work To Control The Workings Of Inclination And Turn The Bent Of Nature; But That It May Be Done, I Know From Experience. God Has Given Us, In A Measure, The Power To Make Our Own Fate.

I Like Rudeness A Great Deal Better Than Flattery.

A New Chapter In A Novel Is Something Like A New Scene In A Play.

You May Fume And Fidget As You Please: But This Is The Best Plan To Pursue With You, I Am Certain. I Like You More Than I Can Say; But I’ll Not Sink Into A Bathos Of Sentiment: And With This Needle Of Repartee I’ll Keep You From The Edge Of The Gulf Too; And, Moreover, Maintain By Its Pungent Aid That Distance Between You And Myself Most Conducive To Our Real Mutual Advantage.

Sometimes I Have The Strangest Feeling About You. Especially When You Are Near Me As You Are Now. It Feels As Though I Had A String Tied Here Under My Left Rib Where My Heart Is, Tightly Knotted To You In A Similar Fashion. And When You Go To Ireland, With All That Distance Between Us, I Am Afraid That This Cord Will Be Snapped, And I Shall Bleed Inwardly.

Jane Austin Was A Complete And Most Sensible Lady, But A Very Incomplete And Rather Insensible (not Senseless) Woman. If This Is Heresy, I Cannot Help It.

Am I A Liar In Your Eyes?" He Asked Passionately. "little Skeptic, You Shall Be Convinced. What Love Have I For Miss Ingram? None: And That You Know. What Love Has She For Me? None: As I Have Taken Pains To Prove; I Caused A Rumor To Reach Her That My Fortune Was Not A Third Of What Was Supposed, And After That I Presented Myself To See The Result; It Was Coldness Both From Her And Her Mother. I Would Not-i Could Not-marry Miss Ingram. 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.

Unheard-of Combinations Of Circumstances Demand Unheard-of Rules.

I Looked, And Had An Acute Pleasure In Looking,--a Precious Yet Poignant Pleasure; Pure Gold, With A Steely Point Of Agony: A Pleasure Like What The Thirst-perishing Man Might Feel Who Knows The Well To Which He Has Crept Is Poisoned, Yet Stoops And Drinks Divine Draughts Nevertheless.

Men, In General, Are A Sort Of Scum, Very Different To Anything Of Which You Have An Idea.

Say Whatever Your Memory Suggests Is True; But Add Nothing And Exaggerate Nothing.

Whatever My Powers--feminine Or The Contrary--god Had Given Them, And I Felt Resolute To Be Ashamed Of No Faculty Of His Bestowal.

I Am No Bird; And No Net Ensnares Me; I Am A Free Human Being With An Independent Will.

I Believe While I Tremble; I Trust While I Weep.

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.

But This I Know; The Writer Who Possesses The Creative Gift Owns Something Of Which He Is Not Always Master--something That At Times Strangely Wills And Works For Itself. He May Lay Down Rules And Devise Principles, And To Rules And Principles It Will Perhaps For Years Lie In Subjection; And Then, Haply Without Any Warning Of Revolt, There Comes A Time When It Will No Longer Consent.

I Soon Forgot Storm In Music.

What The Deuce Is To Do Now?

But What Is So Headstrong As Youth? What So Blind As Inexperience?

I Know What It Is To Live Entirely For And With What I Love Best On Earth. I Hold Myself Supremely Blest -- Blest Beyond What Language Can Express; Because I Am My Husband's Life As Fully As He Is Mine.

Now For The Hitch In Jane's Character,' He Said At Last, Speaking More Calmly Than From His Look I Had Expected Him To Speak. 'the Reel Of Silk Has Run Smoothly Enough So Far; But I Always Knew There Would Come A Knot And A Puzzle: Here It Is. Now For Vexation, And Exasperation, And Endless Trouble!

Men Judge Us By The Success Of Our Efforts. God Looks At The Efforts Themselves.

Congratulations

His Mind Was Indeed My Library, And Whenever It Was Opened To Me, I Entered Bliss.

Am I Hideous, Jane? Very, Sir: You Always Were, You Know.

A Waft Of Wind Came Sweeping Down The Laurel-walk, And Trembled Through The Boughs Of The Chestnut: It Wandered Away-away-to An Indefinite Distance-it Died. The Nightingale's Song Was Then The Only Voice Of The Hour: In Listening To It, I Again Wept.

I Had Not Seen "pride And Prejudice," Till I Read That Sentence Of Yours, And Then I Got The Book. And What Did I Find? An Accurate Daguerreotyped Portrait Of A Common-place Face; A Carefully Fenced, Highly Cultivated Garden, With Neat Borders And Delicate Flowers; But No Glance Of A Bright, Vivid Physiognomy, No Open Country, No Fresh Air, No Blue Hill, No Bonny Beck. I Should Hardly Like To Live With Her Ladies And Gentlemen, In Their Elegant But Confined Houses.

Well Had Solomon Said,'better Is A Dinner Of Herbs Where Love Is, Than A Stalled Ox And Hatred Therewith.

Amid The Worry Of A Self- Condemnatory Soliloquy, His Demeanour Seemed Grave, Perhaps Cold, Both To Me And His Mother. And Yet There Was No Bad Feeling, No Malice, No Rancour, No Littleness In His Countenance, Beautiful With A Man's Best Beauty, Even In Its Depression. When I Placed His Chair At The Table, Which I Hastened To Do, Anticipating The Servant, And When I Handed Him His Tea, Which I Did With Trembling Care, He Said: "thank You, Lucy," In As Kindly A Tone Of His Full Pleasant Voice As Ever My Ear Welcomed.

I Have A Strange Feeling With Regard To You. As If I Had A String Somewhere Under My Left Ribs, Tightly Knotted To A Similar String In You. And If You Were To Leave I'm Afraid That Cord Of Communion Would Snap. And I Have A Notion That I'd Take To Bleeding Inwardly. As For You, You'd Forget Me.

Somewhere Under

A Reader Kindly Pointed Out To Me Recently That Most Of The Quotes I Include Are By Men. And It's True. Personally, I Don't Even Consider Whether The Author Is Male Or Female, Nor Even Care Much Who The Author Is - What's Significant Is The Message. Of Course, Women Are Equally Capable Of Great Insights, However In Our Culture It's Not So Long Ago That Women Could Not Even Be Published

Feeling Without Judgement Is A Washy Draught Indeed; But Judgement Untempered By Feeling Is Too Bitter And Husky A Morsel For Human Deglutition.

A Depressing And Difficult Passage Has Prefaced Every Page I Have Turned In Life.

My Wretched Feet, Flayed And Swollen To Lameness By The Sharp Air Of January, Began To Heal And Subside Under The Gentler Breathings Of April; The Nights And Mornings No Longer By Their Canadian Temperature Froze The Very Blood In Our Veins; We Could Now Endure The Play-hour Passed In The Garden.

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.

Unlawful Pleasure, Trenching On Another's Rights, Is Delusive And Envenomed Pleasureits Hollowness Disappoints At The Time, Its Poison Cruelly Tortures Afterwards, Its Effects Deprave Forever.

Arraigned At My Own Bar, Memory Having Given Her Evidence Of The Hopes, Wishes, Sentiments I Had Been Cherishing Since Last Night-- Of The General State Of Mind Which I Have Indulged For Nearly A Fortnight Past; Reason Having Come Forward And Told In Her Own Quiet Way , A Plain, Unvarnished Tale, Showing How I Had Rejected The Real, And Rabidly Devoured The Ideal;-- I Pronounced Judgment To This Effect:-- That A Greater Fool Than Jane Eyre Had Never Breathed The Breath Of Life: That A More Fantastic Idiot Had Never Surfeited Herself On Sweet Lies, And Swallowed The Poison As If It Were Nectar.

Mr. Rochester, I No More Assign This Fate To You Than I Grasp At It For Myself. We Were Born To Strive And Endure - You As Well As I: Do So. You Will Forget Me Before I Forget You.

You Are Human And Fallible.

The Writer Who Possesses The Creative Gift Owns Something Of Which He Is Not Always Master - Something That, At Times, Strangely Wills And Works For Itself.

Do You Like Him Much?' I Told You I Liked Him A Little. Where Is The Use Of Caring For Him So Very Much: He Is Full Of Faults.' Is He?' All Boys Are.

Reserved People Often Really Need The Frank Discussion Of Their Sentiments And Griefs More Than The Expansive.

Dread Remorse When You Are Tempted To Err, Miss Eyre; Remorse Is The Poison Of Life.

A Great Deal; You Are Good To Those Who Are Good To You. It Is All I Ever Desire To Be. If People Were Always Kind And Obedient To Those Who Are Cruel And Unjust, The Wicked People Would Have It All Their Own Way; They Would Never Feel Afraid, And So They Would Never Alter, But Would Grow Worse And Worse. 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.

I Can Only Say With Deeper Sincerity And Fuller Significance What I Have Always Said In Theory - Wait God's Will.

Shake Me Off, Then, Sir--push Me Away; For I'll Not Leave You Of My Own Accord.

Pushing Me Away

I Ask You To Pass Through Life At My Side—to Be My Second Self, And Best Earthly Companion.

I Have For The First Time Found What I Can Truly Love- I Have Found You. You Are My Sympathy-my Better Self-my Good Angel-i Am Bound To You With A Strong Attachment.

Little Jane's Love Would Have Been My Best Reward, Without It, My Heart Is Broken.

Fortune Is Proverbially Called Changeful, Yet Her Caprice Often Takes The Form Of Repeating Again And Again A Similar Stroke Of Luck In The Same Quarter.

You, Jane, I Must Have You For My Own--entirely My Own.

Happiness Quite Unshared Can Scarcely Be Called Happiness; It Has No Taste.

Life And Happiness

Yet It Would Be Your Duty To Bear It, If You Could Not Avoid It: It Is Weak And Silly To Say You Cannot Bear What It Is Your Fate To Be Required To Bear.

I Have Not Broken Your Heart - You Have Broken It; And In Breaking It, You Have Broken Mine.

I Don't Call You Handsome, Sir, Though I Love You Most Dearly: Far Too Dearly To Flatter You. Don't Flatter Me.

Whatever The Cause, I Could Not Meet His Sunshine With Cloud. If This Were My Last Moment With Him, I Would Not Waste It In Forced, Unnatural Distance. I Loved Him Well - Too Well Not To Smite Out Of My Path Even Jealousy Herself, When She Would Have Obstructed A Kind Farewell. A Cordial Word From His Lips, Or A Gentle Look From His Eyes, Would Do Me Good, For All The Span Of Life That Remained To Me; It Would Be Comfort In The Last Strait Of Loneliness; I Would Take It - I Would Taste The Elixir, And Pride Should Not Spill The Cup.

I Scorn Your Idea Of Love,' I Could Not Help Saying, As I Rose Up And Stood Before Him, Leaning My Back Against The Rock. 'i Scorn The Counterfeit Sentiment You Offer: Yes, St. John, And I Scorn You When You Offer It.

'my Bride Is Here,' Rochester Said , Again Drawing Me To Him, 'because My Equal Is Here, And My Likeness. Jane, Will You Marry Me?'

Will You Marry Me

I Believe In Some Blending Of Hope And Sunshine Sweetening The Worst Lots. I Believe That This Life Is Not All; Neither The Beginning Nor The End. I Believe While I Tremble; I Trust While I Weep.

My Rest Might Have Been Blissful Enough, Only A Sad Heart Broke It.

It Did Not Seem As If A Prop Were Withdrawn, But Rather As If A Motive Were Gone: It Was Not The Power To Be Tranquil Which Had Failed Me, But The Reason For Tranquility Was No More.

The Shadows Are As Important As The Light.

Enjoy The Blessings Heaven Bestows, Assist His Friends, Forgive His Foes; Trust God, And Keep His Statutes Still, Upright And Firm, Through Good And Ill; Thankful For All That God Has Given, Fixing His Firmest Hopes On Heaven; Knowing That Earthly Joys Decay, But Hoping Through The Darkest Day.

Que Me Voulez-vous?' Said He In A Growl Of Which The Music Was Wholly Confined To His Chest And Throat, For He Kept His Teeth Clenched, And Seemed Registering To Himself An Inward Vow That Nothing Earthly Should Wring From Him A Smile. My Answer Commenced Uncompromisingly: - 'monsieur,' I Said, Je Veux L'impossible, Des Choses Inouïes.

I Stood Lonely Enough, But To That Feeling Of Isolation I Was Accustomed: It Did Not Oppress Me Much.

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!

It Is A Happy Thing That Time Quells The Longings Of Vengeance And Hushes The Promptings Of Rage And Aversion. I Had Left This Woman In Bitterness And Hate, And I Came Back To Her Now With No Other Emotion Than A Sort Of Ruth For Her Great Sufferings, And Strong Yearning To Forget And Forgive All Injuries - To Be Reconciled And Clasp Hands In Amity.

Give Him Enough Rope And He Will Hang Himself.

I Knew You Would Do Me Good In Some Way, At Some Time--i Saw It In Your Eyes When I First Beheld You.

Daydreams Are The Delusions Of The Devil.

As Far As My Experience Of Matrimony Goes -- I Think It Tends To Draw You Out Of, And Away From Yourself.

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.

Great Pains Were Taken To Hide Chains With Flowers

Would 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.

If There Is One Notion I Hate More Than Another, It Is That Of Marriage - I Mean Marriage In The Vulgar, Weak Sense, As A Mere Matter Of Sentiment.

I Sat Down And Tried To Rest. I Could Not; Though I Had Been On Foot All Day, I Could Not Now Repose An Instant; I Was Too Much Excited. A Phase Of My Life Was Closing Tonight, A New One Opening Tomorrow: Impossible To Slumber In The Interval; I Must Watch Feverishly While The Change Was Being Accomplished.

There Is A Perverse Mood Of The Mind Which Is Rather Soothed Than Irritated By Misconstruction; And In Quarters Where We Can Never Be Rightly Known, We Take Pleasure, I Think, In Being Consummately Ignored. What Honest Man On Being Casually Taken For A Housebreaker Does Not Feel Rather Tickled Than Vexed At The Mistake?

[o]ur Honeymoon Will Shine Our Life Long: Its Beams Will Only Fade Over Your Grave Or Mine.

That A Greater Fool Than Jane Eyre Had Never Breathed The Breath Of Life; That A More Fantastic Idiot Had Never Surfeited Herself On Sweet Lies, And Swallowed Poison As If It Were Nectar.

Reader, I Married Him.

Better To Be Without Logic Than Without Feeling.

Die Without Me If You Will. Live For Me If You Dare.

Oft A Little Morning Rain Foretells A Pleasant Day.

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