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Robanne Johnston
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"Fabulously well written, but almost impossible for me to wrap my mind around this Mother's thought process." — May 30, 2012 07:54PM
"Fabulously well written, but almost impossible for me to wrap my mind around this Mother's thought process." — May 30, 2012 07:54PM
Robanne Johnston
rated a book it was ok
Reading for the 2nd time
read in January 2009
Robanne Johnston said:
"
The begining was interesting...but there were too many stories covering too many time periods. I lost interest in knowing the end...so I never finished.
"
“Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind.”
―
―
“After all, Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels.”
―
―
“Jane, my little darling (so I will call you, for so you are), you don't know what you are talking about; you misjudge me again: it is not because she is mad I hate her. If you were mad, do you think I should hate you?"
"I do indeed, sir."
"Then you are mistaken, and you know nothing about me, and nothing about the sort of love of which I am capable. 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: if you raved, my arms should confine you, and not a strait waistcoat--your grasp, even in fury, would have a charm for me: if you flew at me as wildly as that woman did this morning, I should receive you in an embrace, at least as fond as it would be restrictive. I should not shrink from you with disgust as I did from her: in your quiet moments you should have no watcher and no nurse but me; and I could hang over you with untiring tenderness, though you gave me no smile in return; and never weary of gazing into your eyes, though they had no longer a ray of recognition for me.”
― Jane Eyre
"I do indeed, sir."
"Then you are mistaken, and you know nothing about me, and nothing about the sort of love of which I am capable. 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: if you raved, my arms should confine you, and not a strait waistcoat--your grasp, even in fury, would have a charm for me: if you flew at me as wildly as that woman did this morning, I should receive you in an embrace, at least as fond as it would be restrictive. I should not shrink from you with disgust as I did from her: in your quiet moments you should have no watcher and no nurse but me; and I could hang over you with untiring tenderness, though you gave me no smile in return; and never weary of gazing into your eyes, though they had no longer a ray of recognition for me.”
― Jane Eyre
Robanne’s 2025 Year in Books
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