Jane Eyre
by
Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear. Your mind is my treasure, and if it were broken, it would be my treasure still:
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sonaa
“...who shall measure the heat and violence of a poet's heart when caught and tangled in a woman's body?”
― A Room of One's Own
― A Room of One's Own
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