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? Charlotte Bronte More Quotes by Charlotte Bronte More Quotes From Charlotte Bronte 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. Charlotte Bronte somewhere-under ribs feelings 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! Charlotte Bronte i-love-him light night Strange that grief should now almost choke me, because another human being's eye has failed to greet mine. Charlotte Bronte strange grief eye You ask rather too many questions. I have given you answers enough for the present: now I want to read. Charlotte Bronte enough answers want 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. Charlotte Bronte expression hurt thinking He is not to them what he is to me. Charlotte Bronte 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? Charlotte Bronte rust obscurity coward 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. Charlotte Bronte garden spring morning ...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. Charlotte Bronte departure torn strikes Let your performance do the thinking. Charlotte Bronte action inspirational thinking 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. Charlotte Bronte selfish strong evil My rest might have been blissful enough, only a sad heart broke it. Charlotte Bronte enough heart might 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. Charlotte Bronte distance farewell loneliness I tired of the routine of eight years in one afternoon. Charlotte Bronte eight tired years You, sir, are the most phantom-like of all; you are a mere dream Charlotte Bronte phantoms mere dream While I loved, and while I was loved, what an existence I enjoyed! Charlotte Bronte enjoyed existence Whatever my powers--feminine or the contrary--God had given them, and I felt resolute to be ashamed of no faculty of his bestowal. Charlotte Bronte feminine faculty given I believe while I tremble; I trust while I weep. Charlotte Bronte villette i-believe believe 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. Charlotte Bronte flower eden rose Make my happiness--I will make yours. Charlotte Bronte
