Quote

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life, whatever its pangs our eyes and ears and their use remain with us, though the prospect of what pleases be wholly withdrawn, and the sound of what consoles must be silenced.

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
Use
Remain
Consoles
Stills
Ears
Pangs
Still
Please
Withdrawn
Must
Eyes
Silenced
Life
Though
Console
Whatever
Pleases
Eye
Prospect
Sound
Wholly

More quotes by Charlotte Bronte

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Unlawful pleasure, trenching on another's rights, is delusive and envenomed pleasure—its hollowness disappoints at the time, its poison cruelly tortures afterwards, its effects deprave forever.
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I mentally shake hands with you for your answer, despite its inaccuracy. Mr. Rochester
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He made me love him without looking at me.
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His mind was indeed my library, and whenever it was opened to me, I entered bliss.
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Flirting is a woman’s trade, one must keep in practice.
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Propensities and principles must be reconciled by some means.
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I sat down and tried to rest. I could not though I had been on foot all day, I could not now repose an instant I was too much excited. A phase of my life was closing tonight, a new one opening tomorrow: impossible to slumber in the interval I must watch feverishly while the change was being accomplished.
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I was no pope - I could not boast infallibility.
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Shake me off, then, sir--push me away for I'll not leave you of my own accord.
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And with that answer, he left me. I would much rather he had knocked me down.
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I could not unlove him now, merely because I found that he had ceased to notice me.
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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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A beauty neither of fine colour nor long eyelash, nor pencilled brow, but of meaning, of movement, of radiance.
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Love me, then, or hate me, as you will, I said at last, you have my full and free forgiveness: ask now for God's, and be at peace.
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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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Would you not be happier if you tried to forget her severity, together with the passionate emotions it excited? Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity, or registering wrongs.
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The idea of seeing the sea - of being near it - watching its changes by sunrise, sunset, moonlight, and noonday - in calm, perhaps in storm - fills and satisfies my mind.
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Gentle reader, may you never feel what I then felt! May your eyes never shed such stormy, scalding, heart-wrung tears as poured from mine. May you never appeal to Heaven in prayers so hopeless and so agised as in that hour left my lips: for never may you, like me, dread to be the instrument of evil to what you wholly love.
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I can only say with deeper sincerity and fuller significance what I have always said in theory - Wait God's will.
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You have introduced a topic on which our natures are at variance - a topic we should never discuss: the very name of love is an apple of discord between us. If the reality were required, what should we do? How should we feel? My dear cousin, abandon your scheme of marriage - forget it.
Charlotte Bronte