I was glad of it: I never liked long walks, especially on chilly afternoons: dreadful to me was the coming home in the raw twilight, with nipped fingers and toes, and a heart saddened by the chidings of Bessie, the nurse, and humbled by the consciousness of my physical inferiority to Eliza, John, and Georgiana Reed.
Charlotte BronteIn sunshine, in prosperity, the flowers are very well; but how many wet days are there in lifeโNovember seasons of disaster, when a man's hearth and home would be cold indeed, without the clear, cheering gleam of intellect.
Charlotte Bronte