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There was no possibility of taking a walk that day.

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
Walks
Possibility
Walk
Taking

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One does not jump, and spring, and shout hurrah! at hearing one has got a fortune, one begins to consider responsibilities, and to ponder business on a base of steady satisfaction rise certain grave cares, and we contain ourselves, and brood over our bliss with a solemn brow.
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There are certain phrases potent to make my blood boil -- improper influence! What old woman's cackle is that? Are you a young lady? I am a thousand times better: I am an honest woman, and as such I will be treated.
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A waft of wind came sweeping down the laurel-walk, and trembled through the boughs of the chestnut: it wandered away-away-to an indefinite distance-it died. The nightingale's song was then the only voice of the hour: in listening to it, I again wept.
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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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I believe while I tremble I trust while I weep.
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I scorn your idea of love,' I could not help saying, as I rose up and stood before him, leaning my back against the rock. 'I scorn the counterfeit sentiment you offer: yes, St. John, and I scorn you when you offer it.
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Life is still life, whatever its pangs our eyes and ears and their use remain with us, though the prospect of what pleases be wholly withdrawn, and the sound of what consoles must be silenced.
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Of late years an abundant shower of curates has fallen upon the North of England.
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Reader, I literally married him.
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Gentle, soft dream, nestling in my arms now, you will fly, too, as your sisters have all fled before you: but kiss me before you go--embrace me, Jane.
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I mean that I value vision, and dread being struck stone blind.
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I can be on guard against my enemies, but God deliver me from my friends!
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I see at intervals the glance of a curious sort of bird through the close set bars of a cage: a vivid, restless, resolute captive is there were it but free, it would soar cloud-high.
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Children can feel, but they cannot analyse their feelings and if the analysis is partially effected in thought, they know not how to express the result of the process in words.
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That to begin with let respect be the foundation, affection the first floor, love the superstructure.
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Poverty, for me, is synonymous with degradation.
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The charm of variety there was not, nor the excitement of incident but I liked peace so well, and sought stimulus so little, that when the latter came I almost felt it a disturbance, and rather still wished it had held aloof.
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Strange that grief should now almost choke me, because another human being's eye has failed to greet mine.
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When you are inquisitive, Jane, you always make me smile. You open your eyes like an eager bird, and make every now and then a restless movement, as if answers in speech did not flow fast enough for you, and you wanted to read the tablet of one's heart.
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Friendship however is a plant which cannot be forced -- true friendship is no gourd spring up in a night and withering in a day.
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