Sheri T

“He is not to them what he is to me," I thought: "he is
not of their kind. I believe he is of mine; -I am sure he
is-I feel akin to him-| understand the language of
his countenance and movements: though rank and
wealth sever us widely, I have something in my brain
and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates
me mentally to him. Did I say, a few days since, that I
had nothing to do with him but to receive my salary
at his hands? Did I forbid myself to think of him in any
other light than as a paymaster? Blasphemy against
nature! Every good, true, vigorous feeling I have
gathers impulsively round him. I know I must conceal
my sentiments: I must smother hope; I must
remember that he cannot care much for me. For
when I say that I am of his kind, I do not mean that I
have his force to influence, and his spell to attract; I
mean only that I have certain tastes and feelings in
common with him. I must, then "repeat continually
that we are for ever sundered:-and yet, while I
breathe and think, I must love him.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre: The Original 1847 Edition With Illustrations

“I grieve to leave: I love this place-I love it,
because I have lived in it a full and delightful life,-
momentarily at least.
I have not been trampled on.
I have not been petrified.
I have not been buried with inferior minds,
and excluded from every glimpse of communion with
what is bright and energetic and high.
I have talked, face to face, with what I reverence,
with what I delight in,- with an original, a vigorous, an
expanded mind.
I have known you; and it strikes me with terror and
anguish to feel I absolutely must be torn from you for
ever.
I see the necessity of departure;
and it is like looking in the necessity of death.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre: The Original 1847 Edition With Illustrations

“He knocked the whiskey back neatly and did not grimace. “Once more, please. Once more with feeling, as they say in the world next door.”
― Stephen King, The Gunslinger

“If you wish me to love you, could you but see how
much I do love you, you would be proud and content.
All my heart is yours: it belongs to you; and with you
it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from
your presence for ever.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre: The Original 1847 Edition With Illustrations