I write because I cannot NOT write.
Charlotte BrontëMots clés writing
Swifts, on a fine morning in May, flying this way, that way, sailing around at a great hight, perfectly happily. Then, one leaps onto the back of another, grasps tightly and forgetting to fly they both sink down and down, in a great dying fall, fathom after fathom, until the female utters a loud, piercing cry of ecstasy.
Charlotte BrontëFlirting is a woman’s trade, one must keep in practice.
Charlotte BrontëMots clés sex flirting becoming-jane
Now, when any vicious simpleton excites my disgust by his paltry ribaldry…
Charlotte BrontëMots clés humor
Signs may be but the sympathies of nature with man.
Charlotte BrontëMots clés signs
I looked, and had an acute pleasure in looking,--a precious yet poignant pleasure; pure gold, with a steely point of agony: a pleasure like what the thirst-perishing man might feel who knows the well to which he has crept is poisoned, yet stoops and drinks divine draughts nevertheless.
Charlotte BrontëMots clés desire
I have to live, perhaps, till seventy years. As far as I know, I have good health. Half a century of existence may lie before me. How am I to occupy it? What am I to do to fill the interval of time which spreads between me and the grave?
Charlotte BrontëMots clés future-plans shirley
I used to rush into strange dreams at night: dreams many-coloured, agitated, full of the ideal, the stirring, the stormy--dreams where, amidst unusual scenes, charged with adventure, with agitating risk and romantic chance, I still again and again met Mr. Rochester, always at some exciting crisis; and then the sense of being in his arms, hearing his voice, meeting his eye, touching his hand and cheek, loving him, being loved by him--the hope of passing a lifetime at his side, would be renewed, with all its first force and fire. Then I awoke. Then I recalled where I was, and how situated. Then I rose up on my curtainless bed, trembling and quivering; and then the still, dark night witnessed the convulsion of despair, and heard the burst of passion.
Charlotte BrontëThe ease of his manner freed me from painful restraint; the friendly frankness, as correct as cordial, with which he treated me, drew me to him
Charlotte BrontëI believe in some blending of hope and sunshine sweetening the worst lots. I believe that this life is not all; neither the beginning nor the end. I believe while I tremble; I trust while I weep.
Charlotte BrontëMots clés inspirational
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