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I Thank My Maker, That In The Midst Of Judgment He Has Remembered Mercy. I Humbly Entreat My Redeemer To Give Me Strength To Lead Henceforth A Purer Life Than I Have Done Hitherto.

-Charlotte Bronte

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I Thank My Maker,

Charlotte Bronte

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I Thank My Maker, That In The Midst Of Judgment He Has Remembered Mercy. I Humbly Entreat My Redeemer To Give Me Strength To Lead Henceforth A Purer Life Than I Have Done Hitherto.

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Give Me Strength

More From Charlotte Bronte

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

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

Pushing Me Away

My God, Whose Son, As On This Night, Took On Him The Form Of Man, And For Man Vouchsafed To Suffer And Bleed, Controls Thy Hand, And Without His Behest, Thou Canst Not Strike A Stroke. My God Is Sinless, Eternal, All-wise, And In Him Is My Trust, And Though Stripped And Crushed By Thee, -though Naked, Desolate, Void Of Resource- I Do Not Despair:where The Lance Of Guthrum Now Wet With My Blood, I Should Not Despair. I Watch, I Toil, I Hope, I Pray: Jehovah, In His Own Time, Will Aid.

It Is In Vain To Say Human Beings Ought To Be Satisfied With Tranquility: They Must Have Action; And They Will Make It If They Cannot Find It.

Remorse Is The Poison Of Life.

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.

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.

The Ease Of His Manner Freed Me From Painful Restraint; The Friendly Frankness, As Correct As Cordial, With Which He Treated Me, Drew Me To Him

A Christmas Frost Had Come At Midsummer; A White December Storm Had Whirled Over June; Ice Glazed The Ripe Apples, Drifts Crushed The Blowing Roses; On Hayfield And Cornfield Lay A Frozen Shroud: Lanes Which Last Night Blushed Full Of Flowers, To-day Were Pathless With Untrodden Snow; And The Woods, Which Twelve Hours Since Waved Leafy And Flagrant As Groves Between The Tropics, Now Spread, Waste, Wild, And White As Pine-forests In Wintry Norway.

The Practice Of Hinting By Single Letters Those Expletives With Which Profane And Violent Persons Are Wont To Garnish Their Discourse, Strikes Me As A Proceeding Which, However, Well Meant, Is Weak And Futile. I Cannot Tell What Good It Does - What Feeling It Spares - What Horror It Conceals.

But Solitude Is Sadness.' 'yes; It Is Sadness. Life, However, Has Worse Than That. Deeper Than Melancholy Lies Heart-break.

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

"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." "more Than Girls?" "very Likely."

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.

Friends Always Forget Those Whom Fortune Forsakes.

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

What Necessity Is There To Dwell On The Past, When The Present Is So Much Surer-the Future So Much Brighter?

Dwell On The Past

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

There Is No Happiness Like That Of Being Loved By Your Fellow Creatures, And Feeling That Your Presence Is An Addition To Their Comfort.

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.

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.

Jane, Be Still; Don't Struggle So Like A Wild, Frantic Bird, That Is Rending Its Own Plumage In Its Desperation." "i Am No Bird; And No Net Ensnares Me; I Am A Free Human Being, With An Independent Will; Which I Now Exert To Leave You.

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

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

Now It Is Not Everybody, Even Amongst Our Respected Friends And Esteemed Acquaintance, Whom We Like To Have Near Us, Whom We Like To Watch Us, To Wait On Us, To Approach Us With The Proximity Of A Nurse To A Patient. It Is Not Every Friend Whose Eye Is A Light In A Sickroom, Whose Presence Is There A Solace.

I Feel Monotony And Death To Be Almost The Same.

Conventionality Is Not Morality.

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?

God Surely Did Not Create Us, And Cause Us To Live, With The Sole End Of Wishing Always To Die. I Believe, In My Heart, We Were Intended To Prize Life And Enjoy It, So Long As We Retain It. Existence Never Was Originally Meant To Be That Useless, Blank, Pale, Slow-trailing Thing It Often Becomes To Many, And Is Becoming To Me, Among The Rest.

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

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

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.

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 Tired Of The Routine Of Eight Years In One Afternoon.

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

God Did Not Give Me My Life To Throw It Away.

'i Wish I Had Only Offered You A Sovereign Instead Of Ten Pounds. Give Me Back Nine Pounds, Jane; I’ve A Use For It.' 'and So Have I, Sir,' I Returned, Putting My Hands And My Purse Behind Me. 'i Could Not Spare The Money On Any Account.' 'little Niggard!' Said He, 'refusing Me A Pecuniary Request! Give Me Five Pounds, Jane.' 'not Five Shillings, Sir; Nor Five Pence.' 'just Let Me Look At The Cash.' 'no, Sir; You Are Not To Be Trusted.'

Rapidly, Merrily, Life's Sunny Hours Flit By, Gratefully, Cheerily Enjoy Them As They Fly!

To Talk To Each Other Is But A More Animated And An Audible Thinking.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Oh! That Gentleness! How Far More Potent Is It Than Force!

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

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

Congratulations

I'm Just Going To Write Because I Cannot Help 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)

You Mocking Changeling- Fairy-born And Human-bred!

He Is Not To Them What He Is To Me," I Thought: "he Is Not Of Their Kind. I Believe He Is Of Mine- I Am Sure He Is- I Feel Akin To Him- I Understand The Language Of His Countenance And Movements: Though Rank And Wealth Sever Us Widely, I Have Something In My Brain And Heart, In My Blood And Nerves, That Assimilates Me Mentally To Him.

Peril, Loneliness, An Uncertain Future, Are Not Oppressive Evils, So Long As The Frame Is Healthy And The Faculties Are Employed; So Long, Especially, As Liberty Lends Us Her Wings, And Hope Guides Us By Her Star.

Prejudices, It Is Well Known, Are Most Difficult To Eradicate From The Heart Whose Soil Has Never Been Loosened Or Fertilized By Education; They Grow Firm There, Firm As Weeds Among Stones.

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?

It Is One Of My Faults, That Though My Tongue Is Sometimes Prompt Enough At An Answer, There Are Times When It Sadly Fails Me In Framing An Excuse; And Always The Lapse Occurs At Some Crisis, When A Facile Word Or Plausible Pretext Is Specially Wanted To Get Me Out Of Painful Embarrassment.

I Am Anchored On A Resolve You Cannot Shake. My Heart, My Conscience Shall Dispose Of My Hand - They Only. Know This At Last.

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.

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

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

I Loved Him Very Much - More Than I Could Trust Myself To Say - More Than Words Had Power To Express." - Jane Eyre

In Sunshine, In Prosperity, The Flowers Are Very Well; But How Many Wet Days Are There In Life—november Seasons Of Disaster, When A Man's Hearth And Home Would Be Cold Indeed, Without The Clear, Cheering Gleam Of Intellect.

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.

Prodigious Was The Amount Of Life I Lived That Morning.

Gentle Reader, May You Never Feel What I Then Felt! May Your Eyes Never Shed Such Stormy, Scalding, Heart-wrung Tears As Poured From Mine. May You Never Appeal To Heaven In Prayers So Hopeless And So Agised As In That Hour Left My Lips: For Never May You, Like Me, Dread To Be The Instrument Of Evil To What You Wholly Love.

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

...it Strikes Me With Terror And Anguish To Feel I Absolutely Must Be Torn From You For Ever. I See The Necessity Of Departure; And It Is Like Looking On The Necessity Of Death.

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.

Her Coming Was My Hope Each Day, Her Parting Was My Pain; The Chance That Did Her Steps Delay Was Ice In Every Vein.

Friendship However Is A Plant Which Cannot Be Forced -- True Friendship Is No Gourd Spring Up In A Night And Withering In A Day.

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

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.

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.

The Man Of Regular Life And Rational Mind Never Despairs.

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.

Even For Me Life Had Its Gleams Of Sunshine.

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.

It Would Not Be Wicked To Love Me." "it Would To Obey You.

Reason Sits Firm And Holds The Reins, And She Will Not Let The Feelings Burst Away And Hurry Her To Wild Chasms. The Passions May Rage Furiously, Like True Heathens, As They Are; And The Desires May Imagine All Sorts Of Vain Things: But Judgment Shall Still Have The Last Word In Every Argument, And The Casting Vote In Every Decision. Strong Wind, Earthquake-shock, And Fire May Pass By: But I Shall Follow The Guiding Of That Still Small Voice Which Interprets The Dictates Of Conscience.

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

Talented People Almost Always Know Full Well The Excellence That Is In Them.

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

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

I Smiled: I Thought To Myself Mr. Rochester Is Peculiar — He Seems To Forget That He Pays Me £30 Per Annum For Receiving His Orders. "the Smile Is Very Well," Said He, Catching Instantly The Passing Expression; "but Speak Too." "i Was Thinking, Sir, That Very Few Masters Would Trouble Themselves To Inquire Whether Or Not Their Paid Subordinates Were Piqued And Hurt By Their Orders.

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

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.

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.

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

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 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

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

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

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

If There Are Words And Wrongs Like Knives, Whose Deep Inflicted Lacerations Never Heal - Cutting Injuries And Insults Of Serrated And Poison-dripping Edge - So, Too, There Are Consolations Of Tone Too Fine For The Ear Not Fondly And For Ever To Retain Their Echo: Caressing Kindnesses - Loved, Lingered Over Through A Whole Life, Recalled With Unfaded Tenderness, And Answering The Call With Undimmed Shine, Out Of That Raven Cloud Foreshadowing Death Himself.

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

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.

If We Would Build On A Sure Foundation In Friendship We Must Love Friends For Their Sake Rather Than For Our Own.

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

A Ruffled Mind Makes A Restless Pillow.

The Hiss Of The Quenched Element, The Breakage Of The Pitcher Which I Had Flung From My Hand When I Had Emptied It, And, Above All, The Splash Of The Shower-bath I Had Liberally Bestowed, Roused Mr Rochester At Last Though It Was Dark, I Knew He Was Awake; Because I Heard Him Fulminating Strange Anathemas At Finding Himself Lying In A Pool Of Water. 'is There A Flood?' He Cried

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

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.

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

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.

Crying Does Not Indicate That You Are Weak. Since Birth, It Has Always Been A Sign That You Are Alive.

Because When She Failed, I Saw How She Might Have Succeeded. Arrows That Continually Glanced Off From Mr. Rochester's Breast And Fell Harmless At His Feet, Might, I Knew, If Shot By A Surer Hand, Have Quivered Keen In His Proud Heart - Have Called Love Into His Stern Eye, And Softness Into His Sardonic Face, Or Better Still, Without Weapons A Silent Conquest Might Have Been Won.

You Transfix Me Quite.

I Hold Another Creed, Which No One Ever Taught Me, And Which I Seldom Mention, But In Which I Delight, And To Which I Cling, For It Extends Hope To All; It Makes Eternity A Rest - A Mighty Home, Not A Terror And An Abyss. Besides, With This Creed, I Can So Clearly Distinguish Between The Criminal And His Crime; I Can So Sincerely Forgive The First While I Abhor The Last; With This Creed, Revenge Never Worries My Heart, Degradation Never Too Deeply Disgusts Me, Injustice Never Crushes Me Too Low. I Live In Calm, Looking To The End.

If All The World Hated You, And Believed You Wicked, While Your Own Conscience Approved You, And Absolved You From Guilt, You Would Not Be Without Friends.

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.

While I Loved, And While I Was Loved, What An Existence I Enjoyed!

I Am Not Deceitful: If I Were, I Should Say I Loved You; But I Declare I Do Not Love You: I Dislike You The Worst Of Anybody In The World.

On The Contrary, I'm A Universal Patriot, If You Could Understand Me Rightly: My Country Is The World.

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

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.

The Human Heart Has Hidden Treasures, In Secret Kept, In Silence Sealed.

Broken Promises

I Would Always Rather Be Happy Than Dignified.

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.

Besides This Earth, And Besides The Race Of Men, There Is An Invisible World And A Kingdom Of Spirits: That World Is Round Us, For It Is Everywhere.

Reader, I Married Him.

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

Tact, If It Be Genuine, Never Sleeps.

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

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.

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

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

Life And Happiness

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.

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.

It Is A Pity That Doing One's Best Does Not Always Answer.

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

I Was Actually Permitting Myself To Experience A Sickening Sense Of Disappointment: But Rallying My Wits, And Recollecting My Principles, I At Once Called My Sensations To Order; And It Was Wonderful How I Got Over The Temporary Blunder-how I Cleared Up The Mistake Of Supposing Mr. Rochester's Movements A Matter In Which I Had Any Cause To Take Vital Interest.

Consistency, Madam, Is The First Of Christian Duties.

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.

Give Him Enough Rope And He Will Hang Himself.

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.

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.

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.

Some Of The Best People That Ever Lived Have Been As Destitute As I Am; And If You Are A Christian, You Ought Not To Consider Poverty A Crime.

Propensities And Principles Must Be Reconciled By Some Means.

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.

I Thank My Maker, That In The Midst Of Judgment He Has Remembered Mercy. I Humbly Entreat My Redeemer To Give Me Strength To Lead Henceforth A Purer Life Than I Have Done Hitherto.

Give Me Strength

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?

As Much Good-will May Be Conveyed In One Hearty Word As In Many.

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.

He Is Not To Them What He Is To Me.

I Think You Will Learn To Be Natural With Me, As I Find It Impossible To Be Conventional With You

They Will Both Be Happy, And I Do Not Grudge Them Their Bliss; But I Groan Under My Own Misery: Some Of My Suffering Is Very Acute. Truly, I Ought Not To Have Been Born: They Should Have Smothered Me At First Cry.

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.

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.

Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Gazer.

We Should Acknowledge God Merciful, But Not Always For Us Comprehensible.

Religious Faith

Such Is The Imperfect Nature Of Man! Such Spots Are There On The Disc Of The Clearest Planet; And Eyes Like Miss Scatcherd's Can Only See Those Minute Defects, And Are Blind To The Full Brightness Of The Orb.

Silence Is Of Different Kinds, And Breathes Different Meanings.

I Was Glad Of It: I Never Liked Long Walks, Especially On Chilly Afternoons: Dreadful To Me Was The Coming Home In The Raw Twilight, With Nipped Fingers And Toes, And A Heart Saddened By The Chidings Of Bessie, The Nurse, And Humbled By The Consciousness Of My Physical Inferiority To Eliza, John, And Georgiana Reed.

Too Often Do Reviewers Remind Us Of The Mob Of Astrologers, Chaldeans, And Soothsayers Gathered Before 'the Writing On The Wall' And Unable To Read The Characters Or Make Known The Interpretation.

But Where Are You Going To, Helen? Can You See? Do You Know?-i Believe; I Have Faith: I Am Going To God.-where Is God? What Is God?-my Maker And Yours, Who Will Never Destroy What He Created. I Rely Implicitly On His Power, And Confide Wholly In His Goodness: I Count The Hours Till That Eventful One Arrives Which Shall Restore Me To Him, Reveal Him To Me.

For I Too Liked Reading, Thought Of A Frivolous And Childish Kind; I Could Not Digest Or Comprehend The Serious Or Substantial.

Jane! Will You Hear Reason?' (he Stooped And Approached His Lips To My Ear) 'because, If You Won't, I'll Try Violence.

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.

I Knew, You Would Do Me Good, In Some Way, At Some Time;- I Saw It In Your Eyes When I First Beheld You: Their Expression And Smile Did Not- (again He Stopped)- Did Not (he Proceeded Hastily) Strike Delight To My Very Inmost Heart So For Nothing.

I Soon Forgot Storm In Music.

Neither Birth Nor Sex Forms A Limit To Genius.

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?

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

Famous Last Words

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

There Are Not Unfrequently Substantial Reasons Underneath For Customs That Appear To Us Absurd; And If I Were Ever Again To Find Myself Amongst Strangers, I Should Be Solicitous To Examine Before I Condemned.

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.

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.

It Is A Very Strange Sensation To Inexperience Youth To Feel Itself Quite Alone The World, Cut Adrift From Every Connection, Uncertain Whether The Port To Which It Is Bound Can Be Reached, And Prevented By Many Impediments From Returning To That It Has Quitted. The Charm Of Adventure Sweetens That Sensation, The Glow Of Pride Warms It; But Then The Throb Of Fear Disturbs It; And Fear With Me Became Predominant When Half An Hour Elapsed, And Still I Was Alone.

Reader, I Literally Married Him.

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.

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.

I Could Not Help It: The Restlessness Was In My Nature; It Agitated Me To Pain Sometimes.

Your Will Shall Decide Your Destiny.

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.

Strange That Grief Should Now Almost Choke Me, Because Another Human Being's Eye Has Failed To Greet Mine.

Oft A Little Morning Rain Foretells A Pleasant Day.

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.

What Delusion Has Come Over Me? What Sweet Madness Has Seized Me?

Rochester: "i Am No Better Than The Old Lightning-struck Chestnut-tree In Thornfield Orchard…and What Right Would That Ruin Have To Bid A Budding Woodbine Cover Its Decay With Freshness?" Jane: "you Are No Ruin Sir - No Lighting-struck Tree: You Are Green And Vigorous. Plants Will Grow About Your Roots, Whether You Ask Them Or Not, Because They Take Delight In Your Bountiful Shadow; And As They Grow They Will Lean Towards You, And Wind Round You, Because Your Strength Offers Them So Safe A Prop.

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

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

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.

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.

Mademoiselle Is A Fairy," He Said, Whispering Mysteriously.

When You Are Inquisitive, Jane, You Always Make Me Smile. You Open Your Eyes Like An Eager Bird, And Make Every Now And Then A Restless Movement, As If Answers In Speech Did Not Flow Fast Enough For You, And You Wanted To Read The Tablet Of One's Heart.

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

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.

As To The Thoughts, They Are Elfish. Those Eyes In The Evening Star You Must Have Seen In A Dream.

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

Poverty, For Me, Is Synonymous With Degradation.

You Are Human And Fallible.

Better To Be Without Logic Than Without Feeling.

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