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Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion. To attack the first is not to assail the last.

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
Last
Assail
Religion
Conventionality
Firsts
Righteousness
Self
Attack
First
Independence
Dignity
Morality
Lasts

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To see and know the worst is to take from Fear her main advantage.
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The vehemence of emotion, stirred by grief and love within me, was claiming mastery, and struggling for full sway and asserting a right to predominate: to overcome, to live, rise, and reign at last yes,--and to speak.
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Cheerfulness, it would appear, is a matter which depends fully as much on the state of things within, as on the state of things without and around us.
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There is, in lovers, a certain infatuation of egotism they will have a witness of their happiness, cost that witness what it may.
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To talk to each other is but a more animated and an audible thinking.
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The practice of hinting by single letters those expletives with which profane and violent persons are wont to garnish their discourse, strikes me as a proceeding which, however, well meant, is weak and futile. I cannot tell what good it does - what feeling it spares - what horror it conceals.
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Writers cannot choose their own mood: with them it is not always hide-tide, nor --thank Heaven!--always Storm.
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I seem to have gathered up a stray lamb in my arms: you wandered out of the fold to seek your shepherd, did you, Jane?
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You, sir, are the most phantom-like of all you are a mere dream
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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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Die without me if you will. Live for me if you dare.
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In sunshine, in prosperity, the flowers are very well but how many wet days are there in life—November seasons of disaster, when a man's hearth and home would be cold indeed, without the clear, cheering gleam of intellect.
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Monsieur, sit down listen to me. I am not a heathen, I am not hard-hearted, I am not unchristian, I am not dangerous, as they tell you I would not trouble your faith you believe in God and Christ and the Bible, and so do I.
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That to begin with let respect be the foundation, affection the first floor, love the superstructure.
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The human and fallible should not arrogate a power with which the divine and perfect alone can be safely intrusted.
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I mentally shake hands with you for your answer, despite its inaccuracy. Mr. Rochester
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At heart, he could not abide sense in women: he liked to see them as silly, as light-headed, as vain, as open to ridicule as possible because they were then in reality what he held them to be, and wished them to be,--inferior: toys to play with, to amuse a vacant hour and to be thrown away.
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The shadows are as important as the light.
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I have not broken your heart - you have broken it and in breaking it, you have broken mine.
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Que me voulez-vous?' said he in a growl of which the music was wholly confined to his chest and throat, for he kept his teeth clenched, and seemed registering to himself an inward vow that nothing earthly should wring from him a smile. My answer commenced uncompromisingly: - 'Monsieur,' I said, je veux l'impossible, des choses inouïes.
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