Charlotte Bronte
Charlotte Bronte
Charlotte Brontëwas an English novelist and poet, the eldest of the three Brontë sisters who survived into adulthood and whose novels have become classics of English literature. She first published her worksunder the pen name Currer Bell...
NationalityBritish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth21 April 1816
heart hands giving
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.
heart thinking giving
I would not be you for a kingdom.' The remark was too naïve to rouse anger; I merely said - 'Very good.' 'And what would you give to be ME?' she inquired. 'Not a bad sixpence - strange as it may sound', I replied. 'You are but a poor creature.' 'You don't think so in your heart.' 'No; for in my heart you have not the outline of a place: I only occasionally turn you over in my brain.
self giving soul
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.
giving done give-me-strength
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.
giving give-me
God did not give me my life to throw it away.
tired years eight
I tired of the routine of eight years in one afternoon.
thinking performances
Let your performance do the thinking.
alive doe birth
Crying does not indicate that you are weak. Since birth, it has always been a sign that you are alive.
want answers enough
You ask rather too many questions. I have given you answers enough for the present: now I want to read.
i-love-him night agony
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!
distance loneliness farewell
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.
sky steel world
I like this day; I like that sky of steel; I like the sternness and stillness of the world under this frost.
He is not to them what he is to me.
coward obscurity rust
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?