Spring drew on... and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that hope traversed them at night and left each morning brighter traces of her steps.

Rochester: I am to take mademoiselle to the moon, and there I shall seek a cave in one of the white valleys among the volcano-tops, and mademoiselle shall live with me there, and only me.

I soon forgot storm in music.

Great pains were taken to hide chains with flowers

I'm just going to write because I cannot help it.

I seem to have gathered up a stray lamb in my arms: you wandered out of the fold to seek your shepherd, did you, Jane?

And it is you, spirit--with will and energy, and virtue and purity--that I want, not alone with your brittle frame.