Background Image

...

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.

-Charlotte Bronte

...

Please Wait....
Translating....

It Seems To Me,

Charlotte Bronte

...

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.

Views: 4

Topic

More From Charlotte Bronte

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

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

My Hopes Were All Dead --- Struck With A Subtle Doom, Such As, In One Night, Fell On All The First-born In The Land Of Egypt. I Looked On My Cherished Wishes, Yesterday So Blooming And Glowing; They Lay Stark, Chill, Livid Corpses That Could Never Revive.

Is There Not A Terrible Hollowness, Mockery, Want, Craving, In That Existence Which Is Given Away To Others, For Want Of Something Of Your Own To Bestow It On?

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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!

Reserved People Often Really Need The Frank Discussion Of Their Sentiments And Griefs More Than The Expansive. The Sternest-seeming Stoic Is Human After All, And To Burst With Boldness And Good-will Into The Silent Sea Of Their Souls Is Often To Confer On Them The First Of Obligations.

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

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

You Transfix Me Quite.

Your Will Shall Decide Your Destiny.

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.

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.

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.

A Beauty Neither Of Fine Colour Nor Long Eyelash, Nor Pencilled Brow, But Of Meaning, Of Movement, Of Radiance.

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

Who Has Words At The Right Moment?

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

It Is Not Violence That Best Overcomes Hate -- Nor Vengeance That Most Certainly Heals Injury.

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

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

Congratulations

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.

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 Am Not An Angel," I Asserted; "and I Will Not Be One Till I Die: I Will Be Myself.

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

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.

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

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 --

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.

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.

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.

Reader, I Literally Married Him.

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

To Prolong Doubt Was To Prolong Hope.

I Know I Must Conceal My Sentiments: I Must Smother Hope; I Must Remember That He Cannot Care Much For Me. For When I Say That I Am Of His Kind, I Do Not Mean That I Have His Force To Influence, And His Spell To Attract: I Mean Only That I Have Certain Tastes And Feelings In Common With Him.i Must, Then, Repeat Continually That We Are Forever Sundered: - And Yet, While I Breathe And Think, I Must Love Him.

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.

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.

Everyone Else Is Just Cocktails.

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

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

Famous Last Words

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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

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.

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

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.

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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?

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

If Life Be A War, It Seemed My Destiny To Conduct It Single-handed.

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

Propensities And Principles Must Be Reconciled By Some Means.

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

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

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.

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 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.

Cheerfulness, It Would Appear, Is A Matter Which Depends Fully As Much On The State Of Things Within, As On The State Of Things Without And Around Us.

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.

If You Like Poetry Let It Be First Rate, Milton, Shakespeare, Thomson, Goldsmith Pope (if You Will Though I Don't Admire Him), Scott, Byron, Campbell, Wordsworth And Southey. Now Ellen Don't Be Startled At The Names Of Shakespeare, And Byron. Both These Were Great Men And Their Works Are Like Themselves, You Will Know How To Chuse The Good And Avoid The Evil, The Finestpassages Are Always The Purest, The Bad Are Invariably Revolting You Will Never Wish To Read Them Over Twice.

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

Better To Be Without Logic Than Without Feeling.

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

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

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

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

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.

He Made Me Love Him Without Looking At Me.

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

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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

Consistency, Madam, Is The First Of Christian Duties.

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.

The Word Book Acted As A Transient Stimulus

I Like Rudeness A Great Deal Better Than Flattery.

The Negation Of Severe Suffering Was The Nearest Approach To Happiness I Expected To Know. Besides, I Seemed To Hold Two Lives - The Life Of Thought, And That Of Reality.

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

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.

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.

I'm Just Going To Write Because I Cannot Help It.

There's No Use In Weeping, Though We Are Condemned To Part: There's Such A Thing As Keeping, A Remembrance In One's Heart.

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

I Had Not Intended To Love Him; The Reader Knows I Had Wrought Hard To Extirpate From My Soul The Germs Of Love There Detected; And Now, At The First Renewed View Of Him, They Spontaneously Revived, Great And Strong! He Made Me Love Him Without Looking At Me.

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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 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!

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.

"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."

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

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

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

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.

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.

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

Alas! Never Had I Loved Him So Well!

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

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?

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

I Mean That I Value Vision, And Dread Being Struck Stone Blind.

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.

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

For A Long Time The Fear Of Seeming Singular Scared Me Away; But By Degrees, As People Became Accustomed To Me And My Habits, And To Such Shadows Of Peculiarity As Were Engrained In My Nature - Shades, Certainly Not Striking Enough To Interest, And Perhaps Not Prominent Enough To Offend, But Born In And With Me, And No More To Be Parted With Than My Identity - But Slow Degrees I Became A Frequenter Of This Straight Narrow Path.

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 Only Want An Easy Mind, Sir; Not Crushed By Crowded Obligations.

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

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

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

You Are Afraid Of Me, Because I Talk Like A Sphinx.

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!

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.

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.

Poverty, For Me, Is Synonymous With Degradation.

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!

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.

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.

'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 Am Always Easy Of Belief When The Creed Pleases Me.

To You I Am Neither Man Nor Woman. I Come Before You As An Author Only. It Is The Sole Standard By Which You Have A Right To Judge Me--the Sole Ground On Which I Accept Your Judgment.

Thank You, Mr. Rochester, For Your Great Kindness. I Am Strangely Glad To Get Back Again To You: And Wherever You Are Is My Home—my Only Home.

He Is Not To Them What He Is To Me.

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

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.

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.

I Was No Pope - I Could Not Boast Infallibility.

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

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.

[i]n His Presence I Thoroughly Lived.

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.

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.

Is Not The Real Experience Of Each Individual Very Limited? And, If A Writer Dwells Upon That Solely Or Principally, Is He Not In Danger Of Repeating Himself, And Also Of Becoming An Egotist? Then, Too, Imagination Is A Strong, Restless Faculty, Which Claims To Be Heard And Exercised: Are We To Be Quite Deaf To Her Cry, And Insensate To Her Struggles? When She Shows Us Bright Pictures, Are We Never To Look At Them, And Try To Reproduce Them? And When She Is Eloquent, And Speaks Rapidly And Urgently In Our Ear, Are We Not To Write To Her Dictation?

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?

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.

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 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.

I Believe That Creature Is A Changeling: She Is A Perfect Cabinet Of Oddities.

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

If He Were Insane, However, His Was A Very Cool And Collected Insanity.

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.

Reader, I Married Him.

We Wove A Web In Childhood, A Web Of Sunny Air; We Dug A Spring In Infancy Of Water Pure And Fair; We Sowed In Youth A Mustard Seed, We Cut An Almond Rod; We Are Now Grown Up To Riper Age Are They Withered In The Sod?

Remorse Is The Poison Of Life.

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

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

You Ask Rather Too Many Questions. I Have Given You Answers Enough For The Present: Now I Want To Read.

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 Know Full Well As I Do The Value Of Sisters' Affections: There Is Nothing Like It In This World.

Adversity Is A Good School.

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

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.

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

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.

Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Gazer.

Silence Is Of Different Kinds, And Breathes Different Meanings.

Do You Think, Because I Am Poor, Obscure, Plain And Little, I Am Soulless And Heartless? You Think Wrong! - I Have As Much Soul As You, - And Full As Much Heart! And If God Had Gifted Me With Some Beauty And Much Wealth, I Should Have Made It As Hard For You To Leave Me, As It Is Now For Me To Leave You!

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?

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.

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.

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

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 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.

The Human Heart Has Hidden Treasures, In Secret Kept, In Silence Sealed; The Thoughts, The Hopes, The Dreams, The Pleasures, Whose Charms Were Broken If Revealed.

Let Your Performance Do The Thinking.

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

Trending Author

William Jennings Bryan

Astrid Lindgren

Margaret Wise Brown

Shulamith Firestone

Category