Charlotte Quotes

I don’t need anyone else to distract me from myself anymore, like I always thought I would.

Youth is gone -- gone -- and will never come back: can't help it.

When you think your life is falling apart, it's usually falling together in disguise.

They were Archer's second set of children an d paragons of contemporary teenage cynicism. They enjoyed setting fire to the tails of tender thoughts.

I would never forbid you. I can’t forbid you. It’s not in my power to, and it never should be.

...would not exchange this one little English girl for the Grand Turk’s whole seraglio, gazelle-eyes, houri forms, and all!

You’re going to make something wonderful of yourself. I promise.You’re doing just fine.

What is this thing? trading passions for a tiny bit of acceptance.

I learn my world through writing.

My writing, it’s my way of making sense of everything. My way to feel whole. May I never be complete and may I never feel content – please, let me always have the need, always have the urge to write.

Why I write music? Because it hurts not to.

In her past were sweet passages, in her future rosy hopes.

He did not yet known how many commenced lefe-romances are doomed never to get beyond the first, or at most the second chapter.

You know it feels good. I can hardly geta…I don’t even…”There was something amusing about watching him trying to form a coherent sen-tence. Amusing, but arousing at the sametime.

She bit me. She worried me like a tigress, when Rochester got the knife from her...She sucked the blood: she said she'd drain my heart." Richard mason

Existence was never originally meant to be that useless, blank, pale, slow-trailing thing it often becomes to many, and is becoming to me among the rest.

I was not heroic enough to purchase liberty at the price of caste.

I know, ” he says, and it’s the strangest thing. I can tell he’s smiling, slow and syrupy, when he says it.

[Buddhism] takes us beyond a kind of self-centered narcissism because instead of identifying with the content of our experience, we identify with awareness itself.

When she finally pulled away from him—much to Aley’s stuttering forward reluctance—he wanted only to echo Aley’s words: “Oh! Do it again.

The world, I soon learned, held a different estimate: and I make no doubt, the world is very right in its view, yet believe also that I am not quite wrong in mine.

I rest in ease, knowing there are others out there, whispering themselves to sleep, just like me.

Charlotte looked up doubtfully, wondering why, as she got older, she seemed to be more afraid of things, not less.

Fortunately the Omanis are generally very friendly and in no time at all, I had a knight in shining white dishdasha offering to help me.

You must make love to him like his touch is your salvation.

I wonder if your mother was frightened by Peter Pan before you were born?

Night was come, and her planets were risen: a safe, still night: too serene for the companionship of fear.

I’m here for you. Always. Do you feel me?Hear me? I talk to you every night, does it reach you?

Your mind is my treasure, and if it were broken, it would be my treasure still

Unfeeling thing that I was, the sensibilities of the maternal heart were Greek and Hebrew to me.

In catalepsy and a dead trance, I studiously held the quick of my nature.

It is so hard to talk with John about my case, because he is so wise, and because he loves me so.

The spring which moved my energies lay far away beyond seas, in an Indian isle.

Charlotte blanched. 'I'm only a maid, miss.''A maid is still a woman.

I had not, it seems, the originality to chalk out a new road to shame and destruction, but trode the old track with stupid exactness not to deviate an inch from the beaten centre.

Bessie asked if I would have a book: the word book acted as a transient stimulus, and I begged her to fetch Gulliver’s Travels from the library.  This book I had again and again perused with delight.

Remember, if Christmas isn't found in your heart, you won't find it under a tree.

. . . still we are none of us perfect . . .

... your grasp, even in fury, would have a charm for me...

many men are neither worthy of their wives, nor of their dogs.

I will bestir myself, ' was her resolution, 'and try to be wise if I cannot be good.

You would say you don't see it: at least I flatter myself I read as much in your eye (beware, by-the-by, what you express with that organ, I am quick at interpreting its language).

He had lovely eyes, really—not assessing, at all, but big and dark and…waiting.

Now I will burn you back, I will burn you through, Though I am damned for it we two will lieAnd burn, here where the starlings fly

Childish and slender creature! It seemed as if a linnet had hopped to my foot and proposed to bear me on its tiny wing.

You think you’re defending my ‘honor, ’ but you’re just as bad as he is.

This pure little drop from a pure little source was too sweet: it penetrated deep, and subdued the heart

Endurance over-goaded, stretched the hand of fraternity to sedition.

If all the world hated you and believed you wicked, while your own conscience approved of you and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends.

His veins were dark with a vivid belladonna tincture, the essence of jealousy.