You can write nothing of value unless you give yourself wholly to the the theme – and when you so give yourself – you lose appetite ans sleep – it cannot be helped –.
Friendship however is a plant which cannot be forced – true friendship is no gourd spring up in a night and withering in a day.
Writers cannot choose their own mood: with them it is not always hide-tide, nor – thank Heaven! – always Storm.
As far as my experience of matrimony goes – I think it tends to draw you out of, and away from yourself.
I remembered that the real world was wide, and that a varied field of hopes and fears, of sensations and excitments, awaited those who had the courage to go forth into its expanse, to seek real knowledge of life amidst its perils.
As to the thoughts, they are elfish. Those eyes in the Evening Star you must have seen in a dream.
Dread remorse when you are tempted to err, Miss Eyre; remorse is the poison of life.
I am not deceitful: if I were, I should say I loved you; but I declare I do not love you: I dislike you the worst of anybody in the world.
Men, in general, are a sort of scum, very different to anything of which you have an idea.
I knew you would do me good in some way, at some time – I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you.
Reserved people often really need the frank discussion of their sentiments and griefs more than the expansive.
Thank you, Mr. Rochester, for your great kindness. I am strangely glad to get back again to you: and wherever you are is my home – my only home.
I ask you to pass through life at my side – to be my second self, and best earthly companion.
Take my love. One day share my life. Be my dearest, first on earth.
They will both be happy, and I do not grudge them their bliss; but I groan under my own misery: some of my suffering is very acute. Truly, I ought not to have been born: they should have smothered me at first cry.
If you don’t love another living soul, then you’ll never be disappointed.
If life be a war, it seemed my destiny to conduct it single-handed.
He turned away; he threw himself on his face on the sofa. ‘Oh, Jane! my hope – my love – my life!’ broke in anguish from his lips.
You are human and fallible.
The negation of severe suffering was the nearest approach to happiness I expected to know. Besides, I seemed to hold two lives – the life of thought, and that of reality.