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#villette

Read through the most famous quotes by topic #villette




Amid the worry of a self- condemnatory soliloquy, his demeanour seemed grave, perhaps cold, both to me and his mother. And yet there was no bad feeling, no malice, no rancour, no littleness in his countenance, beautiful with a man's best beauty, even in its depression. When I placed his chair at the table, which I hastened to do, anticipating the servant, and when I handed him his tea, which I did with trembling care, he said: "Thank you, Lucy," in as kindly a tone of his full pleasant voice as ever my ear welcomed. ↗


— Charlotte Brontë


#graham #lucy #unrequited-love #villette #beauty

It is true I little respect women or girls who are loquacious either in boasting the triumphs, or bemoaning the mortifications, of feelings. ↗


— Charlotte Brontë


#love #villette #love

I will tell you it is my neck you are putting in peril; for whatever is yours is, in a dearer and tenderer sense, mine. ↗


— Charlotte Brontë


#love #villette #love

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


— Charlotte Brontë


#jealousy #villette #jealousy

But afterwards, is there nothing more for me in life - no true home - nothing to be dearer to me than myself? ↗


— Charlotte Brontë


#villette #life

It was in looking up at him her aspect had caught its lustre - the light repeated in her eyes beamed first out of his. ↗


— Charlotte Brontë


#paulina #requited-love #villette #love

Your dress is thin, you have been dancing, you are heated." "Always preaching," retorted she; "always coddling and admonishing." The answer Dr. John would have given did not come; that his heart was hurt became evident in his eye; darkened, and saddened, and pained, he turned a little aside, but was patient. ↗


— Charlotte Brontë


#dr-john-graham-bretton #ginevra-fanshawe #unrequited-love #villette #love

Where my soul went during that swoon I cannot tell. Whatever she saw, or wherever she travelled in her trance on that strange night she kept her own secret; never whispering a word to Memory, and baffling imagination by an indissoluble silence. She may have gone upward, and come in sight of her eternal home, hoping for leave to rest now, and deeming that her painful union with matter was at last dissolved. While she so deemed, an angel may have warned her away from heaven's threshold, and, guiding her weeping down, have bound her, once more, all shuddering and unwilling, to that poor frame, cold and wasted, of whose companionship she was grown more than weary. I know she re-entered her prison with pain, with reluctance, with a moan and a long shiver. The divorced mates, Spirit and Substance, were hard to re-unite: they greeted each other, not in an embrace, but a racking sort of struggle. ↗


— Charlotte Brontë


#soul #villette #imagination

He showed the fineness of his nature by being kinder to me after that misunderstanding than before. Nay, the very incident which, by my theory, must in some degree estrange me and him, changed, indeed, somewhat our relations; but not in the sense I painfully anticipated. An invisible, but a cold something, very slight, very transparent, but very chill: a sort of screen of ice had hitherto, all through our two lives, glazed the medium through which we exchanged intercourse. Those few warm words, though only warm with anger, breathed on that frail frost-work of reserve; about this time, it gave note of dissolution. I think from that day, so long as we continued friends, he never in discourse stood on topics of ceremony with me. ↗


— Charlotte Brontë


#dr-john-graham-bretton #frankness #friendship #honesty #lucy-snowe

Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars--a cage, so peril, loneliness, an uncertain future, are not oppressive evils, so long as the frame is healthy and the faculties are employed; so long, especially, as Liberty lends us her wings, and Hope guides us by her star. ↗


— Charlotte Brontë


#oppression






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