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The writer who possesses the creative gift owns something of which he is not always master - something that, at times, strangely wills and works for itself.

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
Creativity
Works
Wills
Writer
Strangely
Creative
Owns
Times
Possesses
Something
Master
Always
Gift
Masters

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Give him enough rope and he will hang himself.
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God waits only the separation of spirit from flesh to crown us with a full reward. Why, then, should we ever sink overwhelmed with distress, when life is so soon over, and death is so certain an entrance to happiness -- to glory?
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He made me love him without looking at me.
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Consistency, madam, is the first of Christian duties.
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There is, in lovers, a certain infatuation of egotism they will have a witness of their happiness, cost that witness what it may.
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To talk to each other is but a more animated and an audible thinking.
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Am I hideous, Jane? Very, sir: you always were, you know.
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I am no bird and no net ensnares me I am a free human being with an independent will.
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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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He is not to them what he is to me, I thought: he is not of their kind. I believe he is of mine- I am sure he is- I feel akin to him- I understand the language of his countenance and movements: though rank and wealth sever us widely, I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him.
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It would not be wicked to love me. It would to obey you.
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It does good to no woman to be flattered [by a man] who does not intend to marry her and it is madness in all women to let a secret love kindle within them, which, if unreturned and unknown, must devour the life that feeds it and, if discovered and responded to, must lead, ignis-fatuus-like, into miry wilds whence there is no extrication.
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I ask you to pass through life at my side—to be my second self, and best earthly companion.
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If he were insane, however, his was a very cool and collected insanity.
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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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When you are inquisitive, Jane, you always make me smile. You open your eyes like an eager bird, and make every now and then a restless movement, as if answers in speech did not flow fast enough for you, and you wanted to read the tablet of one's heart.
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My wretched feet, flayed and swollen to lameness by the sharp air of January, began to heal and subside under the gentler breathings of April the nights and mornings no longer by their Canadian temperature froze the very blood in our veins we could now endure the play-hour passed in the garden.
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While I loved, and while I was loved, what an existence I enjoyed!
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Dread remorse when you are tempted to err, Miss Eyre remorse is the poison of life.
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No severe or prolonged bodily illness followed this incident of the red-room: it only gave my nerves a shock, of which I feel the reverberation to this day.
Charlotte Bronte