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I had been seasoned by adversity, and tutored by experience, and I longed to redeem my lost honour in the eyes of those whose opinion was more than that of all the world to me.

Anne Bronte

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Anne Bronte
Age: 29 †
Born: 1820
Born: January 17
Died: 1849
Died: May 28
Governess
Novelist
Poet
Thornton
West Yorkshire
Acton Bell
Ann Brontë
Anne Bronte
Ann Bronte
Annie Bronte
Lost
Longed
World
Honour
Adversity
Whose
Opinion
Eyes
Tutored
Eye
Seasoned
Experience
Redeem

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Reading is my favourite occupation, when I have leisure for it and books to read.
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I’ll promise to think twice before I take any important step you seriously disapprove of.
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the best compliment to a mother is to appreciate her little one.
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It is better to arm and strengthen your hero, than to disarm and enfeeble your foe.
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Oh, I am very weary, Though tears no longer flow My eyes are tired of weeping, My heart is sick of woe.
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All true histories contain instruction though, in some, the treasure may be hard to find, and when found, so trivial in quantity, that the dry, shriveled kernel scarcely compensates for the trouble of cracking the nut.
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There's nothing like active employment, I suppose, to console the afflicted.
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And why should he interest himself at all in my moral and intellectual capacities: what is it to him what I think and feel?' I asked myself. And my heart throbbed in answer to the question.
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I possess the faculty of enjoying the company of those I - of my friends as well in silence as in conversation.
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To wheedle and coax is safer than to command.
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What business had I to think so much of one that never thought of me?
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No for instead of delivering myself up to the full enjoyment of the as others do, I am always troubling my head about how I could produce the same effect upon canvas and as that can never be done, it is mere vanity and vexation of spirit.
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To regret the exchange of earthly pleasures for the joys of Heaven, is as if the grovelling caterpillar should lament that it must one day quit the nibbled leaf to soar aloft and flutter through the air, roving at will from flower to flower, sipping sweet honey from their cups, or basking in their sunny petals.
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What the world stigmatizes as romantic is often more nearly allied to the truth than is commonly supposed.
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My heart is too thoroughly dried to be broken in a hurry, and I mean to live as long as I can.
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He had not breathed a word of love, or dropped one hint of tenderness or affection, and yet I had been supremely happy. To be near him, to hear him talk as he did talk, and to feel that he thought me worthy to be so spoken to - capable of understanding and duly appreciating such discourse - was enough.
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My soul is awakened, my spirit is soaring and carried aloft on the wings of the breeze.
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There is always a but in this imperfect world.
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He never could have loved me, or he would not have resigned me so willingly
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She left me, offended at my want of sympathy, and thinking, no doubt, that I envied her. I did not - at least, I firmly believed I did not.
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