Charlotte Bronte
Charlotte Bronte
Charlotte Brontëwas an English novelist and poet, the eldest of the three Brontë sisters who survived into adulthood and whose novels have become classics of English literature. She first published her worksunder the pen name Currer Bell...
NationalityBritish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth21 April 1816
answers he-left-me left
And with that answer, he left me. I would much rather he had knocked me down.
hands answers rochester
I mentally shake hands with you for your answer, despite its inaccuracy." Mr. Rochester
lapses answers tongue
It is one of my faults, that though my tongue is sometimes prompt enough at an answer, there are times when it sadly fails me in framing an excuse; and always the lapse occurs at some crisis, when a facile word or plausible pretext is specially wanted to get me out of painful embarrassment.
inward answers teeth
Que me voulez-vous?' said he in a growl of which the music was wholly confined to his chest and throat, for he kept his teeth clenched, and seemed registering to himself an inward vow that nothing earthly should wring from him a smile. My answer commenced uncompromisingly: - 'Monsieur,' I said, je veux l'impossible, des choses inouïes;
thank-you answers doe
It is a pity that doing one's best does not always answer.
lying sky eden
My fine visions are all very well, but I must not forget they are absolutely unreal. I have a rosy sky and a green flowery Eden in my brain; but without, I am perfectly aware, lies at my feet a rough tract to travel, and around me gather black tempests to encounter.
tired years eight
I tired of the routine of eight years in one afternoon.
flower eden rose
My sister Emily loved the moors. Flowers brighter than the rose bloomed in the blackest of the heath for her; out of a sullen hollow in a livid hillside her mind could make an Eden. She found in the bleak solitude many and dear delights; and not the least and best-loved was – liberty.
morning amount prodigious
Prodigious was the amount of life I lived that morning.
forgiveness time revenge
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.
thinking performances
Let your performance do the thinking.
morning spring night
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.
heartbreak remembrance use
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...