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I wished critics would judge me as an author, not as a woman.
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
Wished
Author
Judge
Critics
Judging
Woman
Would
More quotes by Charlotte Bronte
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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I could not unlove him now, merely because I found that he had ceased to notice me.
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Gentle, soft dream, nestling in my arms now, you will fly, too, as your sisters have all fled before you: but kiss me before you go--embrace me, Jane.
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At heart, he could not abide sense in women: he liked to see them as silly, as light-headed, as vain, as open to ridicule as possible because they were then in reality what he held them to be, and wished them to be,--inferior: toys to play with, to amuse a vacant hour and to be thrown away.
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I only want an easy mind, sir not crushed by crowded obligations.
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Cheerfulness, it would appear, is a matter which depends fully as much on the state of things within, as on the state of things without and around us.
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I mentally shake hands with you for your answer, despite its inaccuracy. Mr. Rochester
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If life be a war, it seemed my destiny to conduct it single-handed.
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Silence is of different kinds, and breathes different meanings.
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I seem to have gathered up a stray lamb in my arms: you wandered out of the fold to seek your shepherd, did you, Jane?
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as much good-will may be conveyed in one hearty word as in many.
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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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A waft of wind came sweeping down the laurel-walk, and trembled through the boughs of the chestnut: it wandered away-away-to an indefinite distance-it died. The nightingale's song was then the only voice of the hour: in listening to it, I again wept.
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If he does go, the change will be doleful. Suppose he should be absent spring, summer, and autumn: how joyless sunshine and fine days will seem!
Charlotte Bronte
I can be on guard against my enemies, but God deliver me from my friends!
Charlotte Bronte
He was the first to recognise me, and to love what he saw.
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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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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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Well had Solomon said,'Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith.
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Wise people say it is folly to think anybody perfect and as to likes and dislikes, we should be friendly to all, and worship none
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