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  • #1
    Charlotte Brontë
    “I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.”
    Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

  • #2
    Charlotte Brontë
    “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

  • #3
    Charlotte Brontë
    “I am not an angel,' I asserted; 'and I will not be one till I die: I will be myself. Mr. Rochester, you must neither expect nor exact anything celestial of me - for you will not get it, any more than I shall get it of you: which I do not at all anticipate.”
    Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

  • #4
    Jane Austen
    “There are people, who the more you do for them, the less they will do for themselves.”
    Jane Austen, Emma

  • #5
    Emily Brontë
    “My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Healthcliff! He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.”
    Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

  • #6
    Emily Brontë
    “He shall never know I love him: and that, not because he's handsome, but because he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made out of, his and mine are the same.”
    Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

  • #7
    Jane Austen
    “If a book is well written, I always find it too short.”
    Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility

  • #8
    Jane Austen
    “The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid.”
    Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey

  • #9
    Jane Austen
    “I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine.”
    Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

  • #10
    Jane Austen
    “Till this moment I never knew myself.”
    Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

  • #11
    Jane Austen
    “My good opinion once lost is lost forever.”
    Jane Austin, Pride and Prejudice

  • #12
    Jane Austen
    “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.”
    Jane Austen, Emma

  • #14
    Emily Dickinson
    “If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain.”
    Emily Dickinson

  • #15
    Emily Dickinson
    “I'm nobody! Who are you?
    Are you nobody, too?
    Then there ’s a pair of us—don’t tell!
    They ’d banish us, you know.

    How dreary to be somebody!
    How public, like a frog
    To tell your name the livelong day
    To an admiring bog!”
    Emily Dickinson, The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson

  • #16
    Emily Dickinson
    “Heart, we will forget him,

    You and I, tonight!

    You must forget the warmth he gave,

    I will forget the light.”
    Emily Dickinson
    tags: love

  • #17
    Jane Austen
    “I was quiet, but I was not blind.”
    Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

  • #18
    Virginia Woolf
    “I would venture to guess that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.”
    Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own

  • #19
    “You ought to spend a little more time trying to make something of yourself and a little less time trying to impress people”
    The Breakfast Club

  • #20
    Charlotte Brontë
    “He made me love him without looking at me.”
    Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre
    tags: love

  • #21
    Emily Brontë
    “He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”
    Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

  • #22
    Fernando Pessoa
    “Literature is the most agreeable way of ignoring life.”
    Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

  • #23
    Emily Brontë
    “Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul!”
    Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

  • #24
    Emily Brontë
    “If he loved with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn't love as much in eighty years as I could in a day.”
    Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

  • #25
    Emily Brontë
    “Oh, I’m burning! I wish I were out of doors! I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free . . . and laughing at injuries, not maddening under them! Why am I so changed? Why does my blood rush into a hell of tumult at a few words? I’m sure I should be myself were I once among the heather on those hills. Open the window again wide: fasten it open!”
    Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

  • #26
    Anne Carson
    “To feel anything
    deranges you. To be seen
    feeling anything strips you
    naked. In the grip of it
    pleasure or pain doesn’t
    matter. You think what
    will they do what new
    power will they acquire if
    they see me naked like
    this.
    If they see you
    feeling. You have no idea
    what. It’s not about them.
    To be seen is the penalty.”
    Anne Carson, Red Doc>

  • #27
    Virginia Woolf
    “It was odd, she thought, how if one was alone, one leant to inanimate things; trees, streams, flowers; felt they expressed one; felt they became one; felt they knew one, in a sense were one; felt an irrational tenderness thus (she looked at that long steady light) as for oneself.”
    Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse

  • #28
    George Eliot
    “It is a common sentence that Knowledge is power; but who hath duly Considered or set forth the power of Ignorance? Knowledge slowly builds up what Ignorance in an hour pulls down. Knowledge, through patient and frugal centuries, enlarges discovery and makes record of it; Ignorance, wanting its day’s dinner, lights a fire with the record, and gives a flavor to its one roast with the burned souls of many generations. Knowledge, instructing the sense, refining and multiplying needs, transforms itself into skill and makes life various with a new six days’ work; comes Ignorance drunk on the seventh, with a firkin of oil and a match and an easy “Let there not be,” and the many-coloured creation is shriveled up in blackness. Of a truth, Knowledge is power, but it is a power reined by scruple, having a conscience of what must be and what may be; whereas Ignorance is a blind giant who, let him but wax unbound, would make it a sport to seize the pillars that hold up the long-wrought fabric of human good, and turn all the places of joy dark as a buried Babylon.”
    George Eliot, Daniel Deronda

  • #29
    Katherine Mansfield
    “The mind I love must have wild places, a tangled orchard where dark damsons drop in the heavy grass, an overgrown little wood, the chance of a snake or two, a pool that nobody's fathomed the depth of, and paths threaded with flowers planted by the mind.”
    Katherine Mansfield

  • #30
    E.E. Cummings
    “in time of daffodils(who know
    the goal of living is to grow)
    forgetting why,remember how

    in time of lilacs who proclaim
    the aim of waking is to dream,
    remember so(forgetting seem)

    in time of roses(who amaze
    our now and here with paradise)
    forgetting if,remember yes

    in time of all sweet things beyond
    whatever mind may comprehend,
    remember seek(forgetting find)

    and in a mystery to be
    (when time from time shall set us free)
    forgetting me,remember me”
    E.E. Cummings

  • #31
    Louise Glück
    “And if you missed a day, there was always the next,
    and if you missed a year, it didn't matter,
    the hills weren't going anywhere,
    the thyme and rosemary kept coming back,
    the sun kept rising, the bushes kept bearing fruit–”
    Louise Glück, Poems, 1962-2012



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