It was somehow fitting that the true beginning and the end of a life occurred in the same sacred house. Anne would have praised God and Emily would have laughed. On this day, their presence was fully...
I have no objection whatever to your representing me as a
Something of vengeance I had tasted for the first time; as aromatic wine it seemed, on swallowing, warm and racy: its after-flavour, metallic and corroding, gave me a sensation as if I had been poison...
[Charlotte Brontë] once told her sisters that they were wrong - even morally wrong - in making their heroines beautiful as a matter of course. They replied that it was impossible to make a heroine int...
[M]y inner self moved; my spirit shook its always-fettered wings half loose. I had a sudden feeling as if I, who never yet truly lived, were at last about to taste life.