Bronte Quotes

“Put the jerk in the south wing, you won't see him for weeks at a time. Or lock him in the attic. The law will not be on your side, but literary precedent will.”
― Sarah Rees Brennan, Unspoken

“Whatever my powers--feminine or the contrary--God had given them, and I felt resolute to be ashamed of no faculty of his bestowal.”
― Charlotte Brontë

“Where my soul went during that swoon I cannot tell. Whatever she saw, or wherever she travelled in her trance on that strange night she kept her own secret; never whispering a word to Memory, and baffling imagination by an indissoluble silence. She may have gone upward, and come in sight of her eternal home, hoping for leave to rest now, and deeming that her painful union with matter was at last dissolved. While she so deemed, an angel may have warned her away from heaven's threshold, and, guiding her weeping down, have bound her, once more, all shuddering and unwilling, to that poor frame, cold and wasted, of whose companionship she was grown more than weary.

I know she re-entered her prison with pain, with reluctance, with a moan and a long shiver. The divorced mates, Spirit and Substance, were hard to re-unite: they greeted each other, not in an embrace, but a racking sort of struggle.”
― Charlotte Brontë

“It was the sort of library you'd marry a man for.”
― Catherine Lowell, The Madwoman Upstairs

“Too often do reviewers remind us of the mob of Astrologers, Chaldeans, and Soothsayers gathered before 'the writing on the wall' and unable to read the characters or make known the interpretation.”
― Charlotte Brontë

“As your older brother, it's my sacred duty to save you from yourself."

She brings her fists down on the table, making all the dinner plates jump. "The ONLY reason you're fifteen minutes older than me is because you cut in front of the line, as usual!”
― Neal Shusterman, Bruiser

“Do you know that if you take the books in an average school library and stretched out all those words into a single line, the line would go all the way around the world? Actually, I made that up, but doesn't it sound like it should be true?”
― Neal Shusterman, Bruiser

“I call that creativity," Orville said. "The purpose of literature is to teach you how to THINK, not how to be practical. Learning to discover the connective tissue between seemingly unrelated events is the only way we are equipped to understand patterns in the real world.”
― Catherine Lowell, The Madwoman Upstairs

“You loved me—then what right had you to leave me? What right—answer me—for the poor fancy you felt for Linton? Because misery and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will, did it. I have not broken your heart—you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine. So much the worse for me that I am strong. Do I want to live? What kind of living will it be when you—oh, God! would you like to live with your soul in the grave?”
― Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

“I believe - I daily find it proved - that we can get nothing in this world worth keeping, not so much as a principle or a conviction, except out of purifying flame, or through strengthening peril. We err; we fall; we are humbled - then we walk more carefully. We greedily eat and drink poison out of the gilded cup of vice, or from the beggar's wallet of avarice; we are sickened, degraded; everything good in us rebels against us; our souls rise bitterly indignant against our bodies; there is a period of civil war; if the soul has strength, it conquers and rules thereafter.”
― Charlotte Brontë

“How easily such a thing can become a mania, how the most normal and sensible of women once this passion to be thin is upon them, can lose completely their sense of balance and proportion and spend years dealing with this madness.”
― Kathryn Hurn, HELL HEAVEN & IN-BETWEEN: One Woman's Journey to Finding Love

“I turn to our father, searching for an ally. "So Dad, is it legal for Bronte to date out of her species?"

Dad looks up from his various layers of pepperoni and breadless cheese. "Date?" he says. Apparently the idea of Bronte dating is like an electromagnet sucking away all other words in the sentence, so that's the only word he hears.

"You're not funny," Bronte says to me.

"No, I'm serious," I tell her. "Isn't he like... a Sasquatch or something?"

"Date?" says Dad.”
― Neal Shusterman, Bruiser

“An extraordinary dream by lord charles wellesley. (Charlotte Bronte)

'In this slumber i thought i was walking on the banks of a river... Which murmered over small pebbles at the bottom, gleaming like crystals through the silver stream' 'and the green buds of the wild rose trees around were unopened' 'and a mild warmth were shed from the sun... Then at its height in the blue sky”
― Charlotte Brontë

“I want you to know I have never loved anyone like I love you. More than Darcy loved Elizabeth or Heathcliff loved Cathy. I just don’t want to make you a widow.”

“I never really understood why Brontë is considered to be a romance writer. We were required to read Wuthering Heights in high school and I always believed that her novel showcased the bleakest aspects of human nature. The story provided readers with a small yet unforgettable glimpse into the depths of human cruelty. Personally, I never considered the story romantic because the love shared between Cathy and Heathcliff was fatal, not just for themselves but for those around them. Their souls were incompatible, and they were a toxic pairing. Despite their love, passion, jealousy, and desire for connection, they were unable to recognize this fact.”

“I was never a fan of Victorian romance novels.”

“It was never one of my favorites. It’s often viewed as one of the great romance novels of all time, but I think it represents something darker: the fatal, selfish side of love, obsession, and abuse. To this day, I have not encountered a more accurate depiction of how love can become selfish.”

“Why do you say that?” Xuan asked.

“Because I think you have to love someone in the way that I love you to truly understand what love means... and to understand how wrong the story is. My soul and yours are the same in a way that Catherine and Heathcliff’s could never be. Widow or not, I will never stop loving you, Xuan. You have mesmerized me. My very soul has been entangled completely by you over these past three years. If Brontë or Austen could write the greatest love story of all time they’d write our story. And whether you marry me or not, how I feel about you will never change.”
― Kayla Cunningham, Fated to Love You

“Endurance over-goaded, stretched the hand of fraternity to sedition.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Shirley

“I wonder. If I had you wear that mask today, Anne, would you find the courage to tell me what is troubling you?" 

Anne would very much have liked to confide in her father, but where in the world would she begin? 

He leaned over and whispered in her ear. "I will tell you a secret, my dear. All of my children are shy. They have simply learned the art of wearing masks.”
― Lena Coakley, Worlds of Ink and Shadow

“The rage inside Charlotte crested to a peak. "I'm angry because Papa and Aunt Branwell never would have sent you here," she shouted. "Not to a charity school. Not the precious boy."

"I know that," Branwell said, his voice ragged. "I've always known that. Don't you think that might be hard to live with?”
― Lena Coakley, Worlds of Ink and Shadow

“Rogue turned to her, his face no longer quite so hard. A curl of smoke rose from the pistol in his hand. Rotten apples fell from the tree, splatting at her feet. "Poor little girlie," he said, and there did seem to be pitty in his voice. "I told you you'd get your fingers bit.”
― Lena Coakley, Worlds of Ink and Shadow

“We are so isolated here in Haworth, with no one of our own age to befriend, and the men and women of Verdopolis are real, in a way. It wouldn't seem strange to me if... Someone... Might even fall in love with one of them.”
― Lena Coakley, Worlds of Ink and Shadow

“I wonder. If I had you wear that mask today, Anne, would you find the courage to tell me what is troubling you?"

Anne would very much have liked to confide in her father, but where in the world would she begin?

He leaned over and whispered in her ear. "I will tell you a secret, my dear. All of my children are shy. They have simply learned the art of wearing masks.”
― Lena Coakley

“He was the one who'd come back to life not fifteen minutes ago. Whenever he got sick at home, Aunt Elizabeth and Tabitha made a tremendous fuss with hot water bottles and tinctures and sweets and kisses. It only stood to reason that they should all make an extra-tremendous fuss now. After all, when you rose from the grave in England, people tended to make whole religions out of you.”
― Catherynne M. Valente, The Glass Town Game

“You see now how the case stands — do you not?” he continued. “After a youth and manhood passed half in unutterable misery and half in dreary solitude, I have for the first time found what I can truly love — I have found you. You are my sympathy — my better self — my good angel. I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.

“It was because I felt and knew this, that I resolved to marry you. To tell me that I had already a wife is empty mockery: you know now that I had but a hideous demon. I was wrong to attempt to deceive you; but I feared a stubbornness that exists in your character. I feared early instilled prejudice: I wanted to have you safe before hazarding confidences. This was cowardly: I should have appealed to your nobleness and magnanimity at first, as I do now — opened to you plainly my life of agony — described to you my hunger and thirst after a higher and worthier existence — shown to you, not my RESOLUTION (that word is weak), but my resistless BENT to love faithfully and well, where I am faithfully and well loved in return. Then I should have asked you to accept my pledge of fidelity and to give me yours. Jane — give it me now.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“He'll love and hate equally under cover”
― Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

“Il processo durò tre anni, nientemeno! tre anni di prigione e senza vedere il sole. Sicché quegli accusati parevano tanti morti della sepoltura, ogni volta che li conducevano ammanettati al tribunale. [...] Li facevano alzare in piedi ad uno ad uno. - Voi come vi chiamate? - E ciascuno si sentiva dire la sua, nome e cognome e quel che aveva fatto. Gli avvocati armeggiavano, fra le chiacchiere, coi larghi maniconi pendenti, e si scalmanavano, facevano la schiuma alla bocca, asciugandosela subito col fazzoletto bianco, tirandoci su una presa di tabacco. I giudici sonnecchiavano, dietro le lenti dei loro occhiali, che agghiacciavano il cuore. Di faccia erano seduti in fila dodici galantuomini, stanchi, annoiati, che sbadigliavano, si grattavano la barba, o ciangottavano fra di loro. Certo si dicevano che l'avevano scappata bella a non essere stati dei galantuomini di quel paesetto lassù, quando avevano fatto la libertà. E quei poveretti cercavano di leggere nelle loro facce. Poi se ne andarono a confabulare fra di loro, e gli imputati aspettavano pallidi, e cogli occhi fissi su quell'uscio chiuso. Come rientrarono, il loro capo, quello che parlava colla mano sulla pancia, era quasi pallido al pari degli accusati, e disse: - Sul mio onore e sulla mia coscienza!...
Il carbonaio, mentre tornavano a mettergli le manette, balbettava: - Dove mi conducete? - In galera? - O perché? Non mi è toccato neppure un palmo di terra! Se avevano detto che c'era la libertà!... -

[Libertà, 1882]”
― Giovanni Verga

“Maria raised herself with difficulty. "Hush. I'm getting up. See?" She sat perched on the edge of the bed, breathing heavily. "And you will have my porridge thus morning. If you share it with Emil.”
― Lena Coakley

“Wait," Charlotte said. "I'd like to say something, if I may, Papa." He nodded, and Charlotte stood. Her siblings were still looking very grave. She hoped they were in the proper frame of mind to hear what she had to say, especially Branwell. "I have been thinking a great deal about ... My stories." She nodded significantly to them, willing them to understand that she was not talking about writing so much as about crossing over. "Papa was very wise when he called my writing a childish habit, and I think he understands that, for me, its a dangerous one as well."

The small square of paper that had caused such consternation lay in front of her on the table. Now she took it up and held it out, looking at each if her siblings in turn. "Emily. Anne. Branwell." She ripped the paper in half. Emily gasped. " I am renouncing my invented worlds and all who live there. If any of you are in the grip if a similar childish habit"- she raised an eyebrow at her brother - "I challenge you to do the same.”
― Lena Coakley, Worlds of Ink and Shadow

“The dry yellow heath of the moors rose around us on all sides. It was like walking on the sun.”
― Amy Wolf, The Misses Brontë's Establishment

“How many girls’ schools have expelled you?'
'This is number six,' Emma volunteered.' Papa, is Maria going to Paris? Is she?'
'No, Emma, nor anywhere else on the Continent. But she is going _somewhere_, to be sure.”
― Amy Wolf, The Misses Brontë's Establishment

“I don't think the cure for the anxiety of existence is remaining in the quiet of the attic; it didn't do much for the first Mrs Rochester.”
― Robin Ince, I'm a Joke and So Are You: Reflections on Humour and Humanity

“He’d write a character for himself. His character would be tall, much taller than he is now. And his sisters would recognize him as dashing. He’d have personal freedom, his own, a way to escape, to escape from them all.”
― Douglas A. Martin, Branwell: A Novel of the Brontë Brother