What have I to do with millions [of people]? The eighty I know despise me.

A waft of wind came sweeping down the laurel-walk, and trembled through the boughs of the chestnut: it wandered away-away-to an indefinite distance-it died. The nightingale's song was then the only voice of the hour: in listening to it, I again wept.

I believe that creature is a changeling: she is a perfect cabinet of oddities.

Dread remorse when you are tempted to err, Miss Eyre; remorse is the poison of life.

I am not your dear; I cannot lie down: send me to school soon, Mrs. Reed, for I hate to live here.

Men judge us by the success of our efforts. God looks at the efforts themselves.

I like to see flowers growing, but when they are gathered, they cease to please. I look on them as things rootless and perishable; their likeness to life makes me sad. I never offer flowers to those I love; I never wish to receive them from hands dear to me.