Quote

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.

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
Remembrance
Keeping
Though
Use
Part
Heart
Heartbreak
Thing
Condemned
Weeping

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I was no pope - I could not boast infallibility.
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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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The City seems so much more in earnest: its business, its rush, its roar are such serious things, sights and sounds. The City is getting its living - the West-End but enjoying its pleasure.
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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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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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Out of association grows adhesion, and out of adhesion amalgamation.
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But life is a battle: may we all be enabled to fight it well!
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Better to be without logic than without feeling.
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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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Children can feel, but they cannot analyse their feelings and if the analysis is partially effected in thought, they know not how to express the result of the process in words.
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The word book acted as a transient stimulus
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God did not give me my life to throw it away.
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Poverty, for me, is synonymous with degradation.
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I like this day I like that sky of steel I like the sternness and stillness of the world under this frost.
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You, sir, are the most phantom-like of all you are a mere dream
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You ask rather too many questions. I have given you answers enough for the present: now I want to read.
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Self abandoned, relaxed and effortless, I seemed to have laid me down in the dried-up bed of a great river I heard a flood loosened in remote mountains, I felt the torrent come to rise I had no will, to flee I had no strength.
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I mean that I value vision, and dread being struck stone blind.
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As to the thoughts, they are elfish. Those eyes in the Evening Star you must have seen in a dream.
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I soon forgot storm in music.
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