Mr. Rochester grunted. “Miss Eyre, listen to me. I believe there is a string below your rib, and it stretches across class and age to me, and it is attached beneath my rib. And if you find another suitable position, and leave me, you will pull it out. And I will bleed.
Even though he knew the Shadow King would trap them both, he couldn’t just leave her to her fate. There’s such a beauty in that. Choosing love, no matter what it costs.
Without stories, we’re all just lonely islands... stories let us see and hear and feel what someone else does... they build bridges to the other islands. That’s why stories are so important. They create true empathy.
There was only one conclusion Jane could draw from the style and design of the dress and it was this: it had to be thought up by men. Then women could in no way outrun them, and with the lack of oxygen to the brain due to a rib cage the size of a fist, they could not outthink them. And with the bright colors, they couldn’t hide. No running, no thinking, no hiding.
Behold, Tucker Avery,” she says to me, gesturing up at him.
Who are you calling beef-witted?” she laughed at him. “Your mother was a hamster, and your father stank of elderberries!” And away they went, whirling and stabbing with their brooms, almost dancing as they moved about the field. She.
You never know when it’s going to be the last time. That you hug someone. That you kiss. that you say goodbye.
Because that’s what it’s all about, right? Connection. Togetherness. Love.
I shouldn’t have concerned myself with whether he’d keep his promise. I should have thought about whether I’d keep mine.
What’s a wedding without the wedding night? Considering that their first wedding night ended with a heap of horse dung in the corner of their room, it wasn’t difficult to hope for something better this time.
I’m not worth it. But I want you to know, in case I ever do give you this letter and you read it first before you burn it or something, that for just a little while, you made me feel like I was really alive. Like I was special.
Love is a choice I’ve made. A verb. And that, because I believe in it, because I act on it is real. Love is a very real thing to me.
The pen feels unnatural in my hand. It’s so much weightier than pencil. Permanent. There are no erasers, in life.
I just think, we don’t get promised anything good in this life. Bad things happen all the time. They’re happening right now, somewhere out there. They’ll keep happening. Who knows? Maybe this moment, right here, is as good as I’m every going to be.
The key to a successful dance is to make it seem like you can’t help yourself. You look into your partner’s eyes, as if that gaze binds you while your body moves to the music.
Everything changes, I think. That is the only constant. We all grow up.
Jane became something of a walking thesaurus when she was upset, a side effect of too much reading.
Chicks dig historians.
She’d have married Jane to a tree stump if it had been allowed.
The whole place seemed like the look-don’t-touch kind of home. Perfectly manicured. Never enjoyed.