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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.
Charlotte Bronte
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Charlotte Bronte
Age: 38 †
Born: 1816
Born: April 21
Died: 1855
Died: March 31
Novelist
Poet
Thornton
West Yorkshire
Syarŭllotʻŭ Pŭrontʻe
Ш. Бронте
Syarŭllotʻŭ Bŭrontʻe
Xialuodi Bolangte
Шарлотта Бронте
Sharlotta Bronte
Charles Wellesley
Charlotte Bronte
Cārla$15ṭti Pirāṇṭē
Douro
Karlotta Bronte
Mrs. Arthur Bell Nicholls
Tree
Florian Wellesley
Lord Charles Albert
Currer Bell
Charlotte Nicholls
Mrs. A. B. Nicholls
Hsia-lo-ti Po-lang-tʻe
Giving
Remembered
Henceforth
Life
Thank
Purer
Mercy
Hitherto
Judgment
Humbly
Lead
Redeemer
Strength
Maker
Give
Makers
Done
Midst
Entreat
More quotes by Charlotte Bronte
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.
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A beauty neither of fine colour nor long eyelash, nor pencilled brow, but of meaning, of movement, of radiance.
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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.
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It did not seem as if a prop were withdrawn, but rather as if a motive were gone: it was not the power to be tranquil which had failed me, but the reason for tranquility was no more.
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Dread remorse when you are tempted to err, Miss Eyre remorse is the poison of life.
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Am I hideous, Jane? Very, sir: you always were, you know.
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The word book acted as a transient stimulus
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I can but die... and I believe in God. Let me try and wait His will in silence.
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But life is a battle: may we all be enabled to fight it well!
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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.
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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.
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Tact, if it be genuine, never sleeps.
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As to the thoughts, they are elfish. Those eyes in the Evening Star you must have seen in a dream.
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Poverty, for me, is synonymous with degradation.
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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.
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[O]ur honeymoon will shine our life long: its beams will only fade over your grave or mine.
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No severe or prolonged bodily illness followed this incident of the red-room: it only gave my nerves a shock, of which I feel the reverberation to this day.
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The eagerness of a listener quickens the tongue of a narrator.
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Look twice before you leap.
Charlotte Bronte
He is not to them what he is to me.
Charlotte Bronte