Charlotte Bronte Quotes
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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.
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When we are struck at without a reason, we should strike back again very hard; I am sure we should - so hard as to teach the person who struck us never to do it again.
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Your will shall decide your destiny.
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What the deuce is to do now?
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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.
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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?
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Happiness quite unshared can scarcely be called happiness; it has no taste.
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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.
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Remorse is the poison of life.
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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.
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While I loved, and while I was loved, what an existence I enjoyed!
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My rest might have been blissful enough, only a sad heart broke it.
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Better to try all things and find all empty, than to try nothing and leave your life a blank.
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He turned away; he threw himself on his face on the sofa. 'Oh, Jane! my hope – my love – my life!' broke in anguish from his lips.
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Jane, I never meant to wound you thus...Will you ever forgive me?" Reader, I forgave him at the moment and on the spot.
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Reader, I literally married him.
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Crying does not indicate that you are weak. Since birth, it has always been a sign that you are alive.
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God did not give me my life to throw it away.
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"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."
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That to begin with; let respect be the foundation, affection the first floor, love the superstructure.
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Out of association grows adhesion, and out of adhesion amalgamation.
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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.
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Great pains were taken to hide chains with flowers...
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Fair as a lily, and not only the pride of life, but the desire of his eyes...