Is there not a terrible hollowness, mockery, want, craving, in that existence which is given away to others, for want of something of your own to bestow it on?

Remorse is the poison of life.

The soul, fortunately, has an interpreter - often an unconscious, but still a truthful interpreter - in the eye.

I soon forgot storm in music.

Human beings must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it.

'My bride is here,' Rochester said , again drawing me to him, 'because my equal is here, and my likeness. Jane, will you marry me?'

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.