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Jane Eyre I desired more...than was within my reach. Who blames me? Many call me discontented. I couldn't help it: the restlessness is in my nature it agitated me to pain sometimes.

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
Nature
Blame
Many
Reach
Eyre
Sometimes
Couldn
Agitated
Call
Blames
Within
Discontented
Help
Restlessness
Pain
Desired
Helping
Jane

More quotes by Charlotte Bronte

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I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself.
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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 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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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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There's no use in weeping, Though we are condemned to part: There's such a thing as keeping, A remembrance in one's heart.
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He is not to them what he is to me.
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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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The eagerness of a listener quickens the tongue of a narrator.
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Rochester: I am to take mademoiselle to the moon, and there I shall seek a cave in one of the white valleys among the volcano-tops, and mademoiselle shall live with me there, and only me.
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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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Crying does not indicate that you are weak. Since birth, it has always been a sign that you are alive.
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It is not violence that best overcomes hate -- nor vengeance that most certainly heals injury.
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As far as my experience of matrimony goes -- I think it tends to draw you out of, and away from yourself.
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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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I grant an ugly woman is a blot on the fair face of creation but as to the gentleman, let them be solicitous to possess only strength and valour: let their motto be:Hunt, shoot, and fight: the rest is not worth a flip.
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If he does go, the change will be doleful. Suppose he should be absent spring, summer, and autumn: how joyless sunshine and fine days will seem!
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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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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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Dread remorse when you are tempted to err, Miss Eyre remorse is the poison of life.
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I like to see flowers growing, but when they are gathered, they cease to please. I look on them as things rootless and perishable their likeness to life makes me sad. I never offer flowers to those I love I never wish to receive them from hands dear to me.
Charlotte Bronte