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Something of vengeance I had tasted for the first time as aromatic wine it seemed, on swallowing, warm and racy: its after-flavour, metallic and corroding, gave me a sensation as if I had been poisoned.
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
Warm
Swallowing
Seemed
Poisoned
Wine
Tasted
Gave
Sensation
Firsts
Vengeance
Aromatic
First
Sensations
Corroding
Something
Revenge
Metallic
Time
Forgiveness
Flavour
More quotes by Charlotte Bronte
I both wished and feared to see Mr. Rochester on the day which followed this sleepless night. I wanted to hear his voice again, yet feared to meet his eye.
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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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The word book acted as a transient stimulus
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Flirting is a woman’s trade, one must keep in practice.
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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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Prejudices, it is well known, are most difficult to eradicate from the heart whose soil has never been loosened or fertilized by education they grow firm there, firm as weeds among stones.
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Am I hideous, Jane? Very, sir: you always were, you know.
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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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You can write nothing of value unless you give yourself wholly to the the theme -- and when you so give yourself -- you lose appetite ans sleep -- it cannot be helped --
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We know that God is everywhere but certainly we feel His presence most when His works are on the grandest scale spread before us and it is in the unclouded night-sky, where His worlds wheel their silent course, that we read clearest His infinitude, His omnipotence, His omnipresence.
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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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Better to be without logic than without feeling.
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Propensities and principles must be reconciled by some means.
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I soon forgot storm in music.
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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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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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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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My future husband was becoming to me my whole world and more than the world: almost my hope of heaven. He stood between me and every thought of religion, as an eclipse intervenes between man and the broad sun. I could not, in those days, see God for His creature: of whom I had made an idol.
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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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Fair as a lily, and not only the pride of life, but the desire of his eyes
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