Charlotte Brontë > Quotes

“Besides this earth, and besides the race of men, there is an invisible world and a kingdom of spirits: that world is round us, for it is everywhere; and those spirits watch us, for they are commissioned to guard us; and if we were dying in pain and shame, if scorn smote us on all sides, and hatred crushed us, angels see our tortures, recognise our innocence (if innocent we be:”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre: The Original 1847 Unabridged and Complete Edition

“No woman was ever nearer to her mate than I am: ever more absolutely bone of his bone, and flesh of his flesh. I know no weariness of my Edward’s society: he knows none of mine, any more than we each do of the pulsation of the heart that beats in our separate bosoms; consequently, we are ever together. To be together is for us to be at once as free as in solitude, as gay as in company. We talk, I believe, all day long: to talk to each other is but a more animated and an audible thinking. All my confidence is bestowed on him, all his confidence is devoted to me; we are precisely suited in character—perfect concord is the result.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“I can so sincerely forgive the first while I abhor the last: with this creed revenge never worries my heart, degradation never too deeply disgusts me, injustice never crushes me too low: I live in calm, looking to the end.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“This notice has been written, because I felt it a sacred duty to wipe the dust off their gravestones, and leave their dear names free from soil.”
― Charlotte Brontë

“I err.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Villette

“But I was not jealous: or very rarely;—the nature of the pain I suffered could not be explained by that word. Miss Ingram was a mark beneath jealousy: she was too inferior to excite the feeling. Pardon the seeming paradox; I mean what I say. She was very showy, but she was not genuine: she had a fine person, many brilliant attainments; but her mind was poor, her heart barren by nature: nothing bloomed spontaneously on that soil; no unforced natural fruit delighted by its freshness. She was not good; she was not original: she used to repeat sounding phrases from books: she never offered, nor had, an opinion of her own. She advocated a high tone of sentiment; but she did not know the sensations of sympathy and pity; tenderness and truth were not in her.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre: The Original 1847 Unabridged and Complete Edition

“Quite right, sir. I may then depend upon this child being received as a pupil at Lowood, and there being trained in conformity to her position and prospects?”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“We entered the wood, and wended homeward.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“the orb of your life is not to be so rounded; for you the crescent phase must suffice”
― Charlotte Brontë, Villette

“I tell you I must go!” I retorted, roused to something like passion. “Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you? Do you think I am an automaton?—a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong!—I have as much soul as you,—and full as much heart!”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“Well, my insane inconsistency had its reward. Instead of the comfort, the certain satisfaction, I might have won—could I but have put choking panic down, and stood firm two minutes—here was dead blank, dark doubt, and drear suspense. I took my wages to my pillow, and passed the night counting them.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Villette

“I feel as if I could have written gloriously—I longed to write.”
― Charlotte Brontë

“If I failed in what I now designed to undertake, who, save myself, would suffer?”
― Charlotte Brontë, Villette

“Well, life is short at the best: seventy years, they say, pass like like a vapour, like a dream when one awaketh; and every path trod by human feet terminates in one bourne — the grave: the little chink in the surface of this great globe — the furrow where the mighty husbandman with the scythe deposits the seed he has shaken from the ripe stem; and there it falls, decays, and thence it springs again, when the world has rolled round a few times more.

So much for the body: the soul meantime wings its long flight upward, folds its wings on the brink of the sea of fire and glass, and gazing down through the burning clearness, finds there mirrored the vision of the Christian's triple Godhead: the Sovereign Father; the Mediating Son; the Creator Spirit. Such words, at least, have been chosen to express what is inexpressible: to describe what baffles description. The soul's real hereafter, who shall guess?”
― Charlotte Brontë, Shirley

“One day, at a quiet hour, I found myself alone in a certain gallery, wherein one particular picture of pretentious size set up in the best light, having a cordon of protection stretched before it, and a cushioned bench duly set in front for the accommodation of worshipping connoisseurs, who, having gazed themselves off their feet, might be fain to complete the business sitting. This picture, I say, seemed to consider itself the queen of the collection.

It represented a woman, considerably larger, I thought, than the life. I calculated that this lady, put into a scale of magnitude suitable for the reception of a commodity of bulk, would infallibly turn from fourteen to sixteen stone. She was indeed extremely well fed, very much butcher's meat, to say nothing of bread, vegetables, and liquids must she have consumed to attain that breadth and height, that wealth of muscle, that affluence of flesh. She lay half reclined on a couch – why, it would be difficult to say. Broad daylight blazed round her. She appeared in hearty health, strong enough to do the work of two plain cooks. She could not plead a weak spine. She ought to have been standing, or at least sitting bolt upright. She had no business to lounge away the noon on a sofa. She ought likewise to have worn decent garments – a gown covering her properly, which was not the case. Out of abundance of material, seven and twenty yards I should say, of drapery, she managed to make inefficient raiment. Then, for the wretched untidiness surrounding her, there could be no excuse. Pots and pans – or perhaps I ought to say, vases and goblets – were rolled here and there on the foreground, a perfect rubbish of flowers was mixed amongst them, and an absurd and disorderly mass of curtain upholstery smothered the couch and cumbered the floor. On referring to the catalog, I found that this this notable production bore name: 'Cleopatra.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Villette

“(…) Credete, Jane, di avere una sorta di parentela con me? "

Non osavo rispondere in quel momento: avevo il cuore gonfio.

" Perché " disse " qualche volta, soprattutto quando mi siete vicina, come ora, ho nei vostri confronti una sensazione strana: mi sembra di avere una corda, sotto le costole, a sinistra, strettamente, inestricabilmente annodata a una corda analoga situata nella stessa zona del vostro corpo esile. E se quel tempestoso tratto di mare e tre, quattrocento chilometri di terra si metteranno con tutta la loro vastità tra noi, ho paura che quella corda che ci unisce verrà spezzata; e allora temo che comincerei a sanguinare internamente. Quanto a voi… mi dimenticherete.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“— Doutez-vous de moi, Jane ?
— Complètement.
— Vous n’avez pas confiance en moi.
— Pas la moindre.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“However,” I said to myself, “it is no affair of yours;” and turning from the face on which I had been unconsciously dwelling with a questioning gaze, I looked through the window which commanded the garden below.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Villette

“I don’t think, sir, you have a right to command me, merely because you are older than I, or because you have seen more of the world than I have—your claim to superiority depends on the use you have made of your time and experience.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“Take one day; share it into sections; to each section apportion its task: leave no stray unemployed quarters of an hour, ten minutes, five minutes—include all; do each piece of business in its turn with method, with rigid regularity. The day will close almost before you are aware it has begun; and you are indebted to no one for helping you to get rid of one vacant moment: you have had to seek no one’s company, conversation, sympathy, forbearance; you have lived, in short, as an independent being ought to do.”
― Charlotte Brontë

“Undue humility makes tyranny; weak concession creates selfishness.”
― Charlotte Brontë

“I am not depressed.” “But I affirm that you are: so much depressed that a few more words would bring tears to your eyes—indeed, they are there now, shining and swimming; and a bead has slipped from the lash and fallen on to the flag. If I had time, and was not in mortal dread of some prating prig of a servant passing, I would know what all this means. Well, to-night I excuse you; but understand that so long as my visitors stay, I expect you to appear in the drawing-room every evening; it is my wish; don’t neglect it. Now go, and send Sophie for Adèle. Good-night, my—” He stopped, bit his lip, and abruptly left me.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“Biblical promises, heard first in health, but then unheeded, come whispering to the couch of sickness; it is felt that a pitying God watches what all mankind have forsaken. The tender compassion of Jesus is recalled and relied on; the faded eye, gazing beyond time, sees a home, a friend, a refuge in eternity.”
― Charlotte Brontë, The Brontës Complete Works

“Is this my pale little elf? Is this my mustard-seed?”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“Για να θεραπευτεί κανείς πρέπει να μεταμορφωθεί”
― Charlotte Brontë

“Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you? Do you think I am an automaton?—a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong!—I have as much soul as you,—and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh;—it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal,—as we are!”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“It is right to look our life-accounts bravely in the face now and then, and settle them honestly. And he is a poor self-swindler who lies to himself while he reckons the items, and sets down under the head—happiness that which is misery. Call anguish—anguish, and despair—despair; write both down in strong characters with a resolute pen: you will the better pay your debt to Doom. Falsify: insert "privilege" where you should have written "pain;" and see if your mighty creditor will allow the fraud to pass, or accept the coin with which you would cheat him. Offer to the strongest—if the darkest angel of God's host—water, when he has asked blood—will he take it? Not a whole pale sea for one red drop.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Villette

“A lover finds his mistress asleep on a mossy bank; he wishes to catch a glimpse of her fair face without waking her. He steals softly over the grass, careful to make no sound; he pauses fancying she has stirred: he withdraws: not for worlds would he be seen. All is still: he again advances: he bends above her; a light veil rests on her features: he lifts it, bends lower; now his eyes anticipate the vision of beauty - warm, and blooming, and lovely, in rest. How hurried was their first glance! But how they fix! How he starts! How he suddenly and vehemently clasps in both arms the form he dared not, a moment since, touch with his finger! How he calls aloud a name, and drops his burden, and gazes on it wildly! He thus grasps and cries, and gazes, because he no longer fears to waken by any sound he can utter - by any movement he can make. He thought his love slept sweetly: he finds she is stone dead.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“for after all, the British peasantry are the best taught, best mannered, most self-respecting of any in Europe:”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre