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Jane, I never meant to wound you thus...Will you ever forgive me? Reader, I forgave him at the moment and on the spot.
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
Thus
Forgave
Meant
Wound
Reader
Jane
Moment
Spot
Moments
Spots
Ever
Forgive
Never
Wounds
Forgiving
More quotes by Charlotte Bronte
My love has placed her little hand With noble faith in mine, And vowed that wedlock's sacred band Our nature shall entwine. My love has sworn, with sealing kiss, With me to live -- to die I have at last my nameless bliss: As I love -- loved am I!
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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.
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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life, whatever its pangs our eyes and ears and their use remain with us, though the prospect of what pleases be wholly withdrawn, and the sound of what consoles must be silenced.
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A ruffled mind makes a restless pillow.
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I knew you would do me good in some way, at some time--I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you.
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You have rather the look of another world. I marvelled where you had got that sort of face.
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You mocking changeling- fairy-born and human-bred!
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Unlawful pleasure, trenching on another's rights, is delusive and envenomed pleasureits hollowness disappoints at the time, its poison cruelly tortures afterwards, its effects deprave forever.
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There is, I am convinced, no picture that conveys in all its dreadfulness, a vision of sorrow, despairing, remediless, supreme. If I could paint such a picture, the canvas would show only a woman looking down at her empty arms.
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I can so clearly distinguish between the criminal and his crime I can so sincerely forgive the first while I abhor the last.
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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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We wove a web in childhood, A web of sunny air We dug a spring in infancy Of water pure and fair We sowed in youth a mustard seed, We cut an almond rod We are now grown up to riper age Are they withered in the sod?
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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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I am not an angel, I asserted and I will not be one till I die: I will be myself.
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Am I hideous, Jane? Very, sir: you always were, you know.
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If life be a war, it seemed my destiny to conduct it single-handed.
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I only want an easy mind, sir not crushed by crowded obligations.
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I could not answer the ceaseless inward question-why I thus suffered now, at the distance of-I will not say how many years, I see it clearly.
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as much good-will may be conveyed in one hearty word as in many.
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Men judge us by the success of our efforts. God looks at the efforts themselves.
Charlotte Bronte