I cannot love a man who cannot protect me.
Anne BrontëStichwörter: truth misattributed-to-anne-bronte no-source
All our talents increase in the using, and every faculty, both good and bad, strengthens by exercise.
Anne BrontëIt is foolish to wish for beauty. Sensible people never either desire it for themselves or care about it in others. If the mind be but well cultivated, and the heart well disposed, no one ever cares for the exterior.
Anne BrontëStichwörter: beauty mind real what-is-on-the-inside
My soul is awakened, my spirit is soaring and carried aloft on the wings of the breeze.
Anne BrontëI am satisfied that if a book is a good one, it is so whatever the sex of the author may be. All novels are or should be written for both men and women to read, and I am at a loss to conceive how a man should permit himself to write anything that would be really disgraceful to a woman, or why a woman should be censured for writing anything that would be proper and becoming for a man.
Anne BrontëStichwörter: writing feminism female-authors
But he who dares not grasp the thorn
Should never crave the rose.
Stichwörter: beauty roses thorns defenses
I was sorry for her; I was amazed, disgusted at her heartless vanity; I wondered why so much beauty should be given to those who made so bad a use of it, and denied to some who would make it a benefit to both themselves and others.
But, God knows best, I concluded. There are, I suppose, some men as vain, as selfish, and as heartless as she is, and, perhaps, such women may be useful to punish them.
Stichwörter: vanity
Then, you must fall each into your proper place. You'll do your business, and she, if she's worthy of you, will do hers; but it's your business to please yourself, and hers to please you.
Anne BrontëStichwörter: marriage
All true histories contain instruction; though, in some, the treasure may be hard to find, and when found, so trivial in quantity, that the dry, shriveled kernel scarcely compensates for the trouble of cracking the nut.
Anne BrontëStichwörter: truth writing thought biography
I love the silent hour of night,
For blissful dreams may then arise,
Revealing to my charmed sight
What may not bless my waking eyes.
Stichwörter: poetry dreams night
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