Chapter 22
What the deuce have you done with yourself this last month?
...there was such a wealth of power of communicating happiness, that to taste but of the crumbs he scattered to stray and stranger birds like me, was to feast genially. His last words were blam. They seemed to imply that it imported something to him whether I forgot him or not. And he had spoken of Thornfield as my home- would that it were my home!
...he smiled at me with a certain smile he had of his own, and which he used but on rare occasions. He seemed to think it too good for common purposes; it was the real sunshine of feeling- he shed it over me now.
...stay your weary little wandering feet at a friend's threshold.
An impulse held me fast- a force turned me round; I said- or something in me said for me, and in spite of me...
There is no happiness like that of being loved by our fellow-creatures, and feeling that your presence is an addition to their comfort.
That evening shut my eyes resolutely against the future; I stopped my ears against the voice that kept warning me of near separation and coming grief. When tea was over, and Mrs. Fairfax had taken her knitting, and I had assumed a low seat near her, and Adele, kneeling on the carpet, had nestled close up to me and a sense of mutual affection seemed to surround us with a ring of golden peace, I uttered a silent prayer that we might not be parted far or soon; be when, as we thus sat, Mr. Rochester entered, unannounced, and looking at us, seemed to take pleasure in the spectacle of a group so amicable-when he said he supposed the old lady was all right now that she had got her adopted daughter back again, and added that he saw Adele was "Ready to devour her little English mama."-I half ventured to hope that he would, even after his marriage, keep us together somewhere under the shelter of his protection, and not quite exiled from the sunshine of his presence.
I began to cherish hopes I had not right to conceive.
Chapter 23
It was the sweetest hour of the twenty-four.
...no one can wish to go to bed while sunset is thus meeting with moonrise.
Do you think I am an automaton? a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think worng! I have as much soul as you, and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty, and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you.
I am no bird; and no net ensanres me; I am a free human being, with an independent will; which I now exert to leave you.
I ask you to pass though life at my side-to be my second self, and best earthly companion.
Make my happiness-I will make yours.
If I loved him less I should have thought his accent and look of exultation savage; but, sitting by him, roused from the nightmare pf parting-called to the paradise of union- I thought only of the bliss given me to drink in so abundant a flow.
Chapter 24
It seemed no attire had ever so well become me, because none had I ever worn in so blissful a mood.
Well, I feigned courtship of Miss Ingram, because I wished to render you as madly in love with me as I was with you; and I knew jealousy would be the best ally I could call in for the furtherence of that end.
Seeing me, she roused herself; she made a sort of effort to smile, and framed as few words of congradulation; but the smile expired, and the sentence was abandoned unfinished.
Is it really for love he is going to marry you?
(this is a conversation, I've left out the "he said-she said's" and just kept the gist of it)
"I am too take mademoiselle to the moon, and there I shall seek a cave in one of the white valleys amog the volcano-tops, and mademoiselle shall live with me there, and only me."
"She will have nothing to eat-you will starve her."
"I shall gather manna for her morning and night..."
"She will want to warm herself; what will she do for a fire?"
"Fire rises out of the lunar mountains; when she is cold, I'll carry her up to a peak and ay her down on the edge of a crater;"
"Oh, she'll be uncomfortable there! And her clothes, they will wear out; how can she get new ones?"
"...How will a white or a pink cloud answer for a gown, do you think? And one could cut a pretty enough scarf out of a rainbow."
..."But you can't get her there; there is no raod to the moon-it is all air, and niether you nor she can fly."
I like you more than I can say; but I'll not sink into the bathos of sentiment; and with this needle repartee I'll keep you from the edge of the gulf too; and., moreover, maintain by its pungent aid that distance between you and myself most conductive to our real mutual advantage.
Chapter 25
Mrs. Rochester! she did not exist; she would not be born till to-morrow, some time after eight o'clock A.M., and I would wait to be assured she had come into the world alove, before I assigned to her all that property.
Look wicked, Jane, as you know well how to look; coin one of your wild, sly, provoking smiles; tell me you hate me- tease me, vex me; do anything but move me; I would reather be incensed than saddened.
The night is serene, sir; and so am I.
Chpater27
I have for the first time found what I can trly love- I have found you. You are my sympathy-my better self-my good angel; I am bound to you with a strong attatchment. 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.
Do as I do; trust in God and yourself. Believe in Heaven. Hope to meet again there.
We were born to strive and endure...You will forget me before I forget you.
Laws and principles are not for the times when there is no temptation; they are for such moments as this, when body and soul rise in mutiny against their rigor; stringent are they; inviolate they shall be.
He seemed to devour me with his glance; physically, I felt at the moment powerless as stubble exposed to the draught and glow of a furnace; mentally, I still possessed my soul, and with it the certainty of ultimate safety.
Conqueror I might be of the house, but the inmate would escape to heaven before I could call myself possessor of its clay dewlling-place. And it is you, spirit, with will and energy, and virtue and purity, that I want; not alone your brittle frame.
My hand moved toward the lock, I caught it back and glided on.
No reflection was to be allowed now, not one glance was to be cast back; not even one forward.
Chapter 28
I have no relative but the universal mother, Nature; I will seek her breast and ask repose.
Life was yet i my possession, with all its requirements, and pains, and respinsibilities. The burden must be carried; the want provided for; the suffering endured; the responsibilty fulfilled.
Chapter 29
...as he took a seat, fixed his blue, pictorial-looking eyes full upon me.
St. John's eyes, though clear enough in a literal sense, in a figurative one were difficult to fathom. He seemed to use them rather as instuments to search other people's thoughts than as agents to reveal his own; the combination of keenness and reserve was considerably more claculated to embarass than to encourage.
I had now swallowed my tea. I was mightily refreshed by the beverage, as much so as a giant with wine; it gave new tone t my unstrung neverves, and enabled me to address this penetrating young judge steadily.
Chapter 30
Days passed like hours, and weeks like days.
Chapter 32
...a tall, massive-featured, middle-aged, and grey-headed man, at whose side his lovely daughter looked like a bright flower near a hoary turret.
I know poetry is not dead, nor genius lost; nor has Mammon gained power over either, to blind or slay, they will both assert their existence, their presence, their liberty and strangth, again one day...Poetry destroyed? Genius banished? No! Mediocrity, no; do not let envy prompt you to the thought. No, they not only live, but reign and redeem; and without their divine influence spread everywhere, you would be in hell-the hell of your own meanness.
I pondered the mystery a minute or two; but, finding it insolvable, and being certain it could not be of much moment, I dismissed and soon forgot it.
Chapter 33
I soon forgot storm in music.
Circumstances knit themselves, fitted themselves, shot into order; the chain that had been lying hitherto a formless lump of links was drawn out straight-every ring was perfect, the connection complete.
This was wealth indeed!-wealth to the heart!
Chapter 34
...he pndered a mystic lore of his own.
There are no such thing as marble kisses or ice kisses, or should I say my ecclesiastical cousin's salute belonged to one of these classes; but there may be experiemental kisses, and his was an experiemental kiss.
When half a year wasted in vain expectancy, my hope died out; and then I felt dark indeed.
... a last refuge for silence.
I scorn your idea of love... I scorn the counterfeit sentiment you offer; yes St. John, and I scorn you when you offer it.
And with that answer, he left me. I would much rather he had knocked me down.
Chapter 36
The suggestion was sensible; and yet I could not force myself to act on it. I so dreaded a reply that would crsh me with dispair. To prolong doubt was to prolong hope.
Chaptr 37
A soft hope blended with my sorrow that soon I should dare to drop a kiss on that brow of rock, and those lids so sternly sealed beneath it; but not yet; I would not accost him yet.
Gentle, soft dream, nestling in my arms now, you will fly, too, as your sisters have all fled before you...
It brought to life and light my whole nature; in his presence I thoroughly lived, and he lived in mine.
You mocking changeling, fair-born and human-bred!
...all the sunshine I can feel is in her presence.
Sacrifice! What do I sacrifice? Famine for food, expectation for content. To be privileged to put my arms round what I value-to press my lips to what I love-to repose on what I trust; is that to make a sacrifice? If so, then certainly I delight in sacrifice.
Chapter 38
...a sound English education corrected in a great measure her French defects...
Well, that's it for Jane Eyre....I must say Charlotte Bronte wrote so much more that I would have put on here but then I would have just put the whole book on here! ;)
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Monday, November 10, 2008
Jane Eyre Part II
Chapter 13
I descerned in the course of the morning that Thornfield Hall was a changed place; no longer silent as a church, it echoed every hour or two to a knock at the door or a clang of the bell; steps, too, often traversed the hall, and new voices spoke in different keys below; a rill from the outer world was flowing through it-it had a master; for my part, I liked it better.
...twilight and snowflakes together thickened the air and hid the very shrubs on the lawn.
Arithmatic, you see, is usefl; without its aid I should hardly have been able to guess your age.
Chapter 14
...and, filling up each pause, the beating of winter rain against the panes.
Yet there was so much unconscious pride in his port; so much ease in his demeanor; such a look of complete indifference to his own external appearance; so haghty a reliance on the power of other qualities, intrinsic or adventitious, to atone for the lack of mere personal attractiveness, that, in looking at him, one inevitable shared the indifference; and even, in a blind, imperfect sense, put faith in the confidence.
He bent his head a little toward me, and with a single hasty glance seemed to dive into my eyes.
I flatter myself I read as much in your eye (beware, by-the-by, what you express with that organ; I am quick at interpreting its language).
Dread remorse when you are tempted to err,...remorse is the poison of life.
You have no right to preach to me, you neophyte, that have not passed the porch of life, and are absolutely unaquainted with its mysteries.
Chapter 15
Till morning dawned I was tossed on a buoyant but unquiet sea, where billows of tourble rolled under surges of joy.
Chapter 16
...Dusk was now fast deepening into to total obscurity.
When once more alone, I reviewed the information I had got; looked into my heart, examined its thoughts and feelings, and endeavored to bring back with a strict hand such as had been straying through imagination's boundless and trackless waste, into the safe fold of common sense.
...that a more fantastic idiot had never surfieted herself on sweet lies, and swallowed poison as if it were nectar.
Chapter 17
...It was wonderful how I got over the temporary blunder- how I cleared up the mistake of supposing Mr. Rochester's movements a matter in which I had any cause to take a vital interest.
He is not of your order; keep to your caste; and be too self respecting to lavish the love of the whole heart, sould, and stength, where such a gift is not wanted and would be despised.
No sooner did I see that his attention was rivited on them, and that I might faze without being observed, than my eyes were drawn involuntarily to his face; I could not keep their lids under control; they would rise, and the irids would fix on him. I looked, and had an acute pleasure in looking-a precious, yet poignant pleasure; with a steely point of agony, a pleasure like what the thirst-perishing man might feel who knows the will to which he has crept is poisoned, yet stoops and drinks divine draughts nevertheless.
I had not intended to love him; the reader knows I had wrought hard to extripate from my sould the germs of love there detected; and now, at the first renewed view of him, they spontaneously revived' green and strong! He made me love him without looking at me.
I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him.
Blasphemy against nature!
I must smother hope; I must remember that he cannot care for me. For when I say that I am of his kind, I do not mean that I have his force to influence, and his spell to attract; I mean only that I have certain tastes and feeling in common with him, I must, then, repeat continually that we are forever sundered; and yet, while I breathe and think, I must love him.
Chapter 18
I have told you, reader that I had learned to love Mr. Rochester. I could not unlove him now, merely because I found that he had ceased to notice me...
...As for the vague something...that opened upon a careful observer, now and then, in his eye, and closed again before one could fathom the strange depth....Instead of wishing to shun, I longed only to dare, to divine it; and I thought Miss Ingram happy, because one day she might look into the abyss at her leisure, explore its secrets, and analyze their nature.
Chapter 20
To live, for me, Jane, is to stand on a crater-crust which may crack and spue fire any day.
...while the sun drinks the dew....
...don't you curse me for disturbing your rest?
Chapter 21
Presentiments are strange things! and so are sympathies, and so are signs; and the three combined make one mystery to which humanity has not yet found the key.
And signs, for aught we know, may not be but the sympathies of nature with man.
And how do people perform the ceremony of parting, Jane? Teach me; I'm not quite up to it.
It is enough, sir; as much good-will may be conveyed in one hearty word as in many.
Young ladies have a remarkable way of letting you know that they think you a "quiz," without actually saying the words. A certain superciliousness of look, coolness of manner, nonchalance of tone, express fully their sentiments on the point, without committing them by any positive rudeness in word or deed.
...representing any scene that happened momentarily to shape itself in the ever-shifting kaleidoscope of imagination.
Feeling without judgement is a washy draught indeed; but judgement untempered by feeling is too bitter and husky a morsel for human deglutition.
Her life was shortened by trouble.
I descerned in the course of the morning that Thornfield Hall was a changed place; no longer silent as a church, it echoed every hour or two to a knock at the door or a clang of the bell; steps, too, often traversed the hall, and new voices spoke in different keys below; a rill from the outer world was flowing through it-it had a master; for my part, I liked it better.
...twilight and snowflakes together thickened the air and hid the very shrubs on the lawn.
Arithmatic, you see, is usefl; without its aid I should hardly have been able to guess your age.
Chapter 14
...and, filling up each pause, the beating of winter rain against the panes.
Yet there was so much unconscious pride in his port; so much ease in his demeanor; such a look of complete indifference to his own external appearance; so haghty a reliance on the power of other qualities, intrinsic or adventitious, to atone for the lack of mere personal attractiveness, that, in looking at him, one inevitable shared the indifference; and even, in a blind, imperfect sense, put faith in the confidence.
He bent his head a little toward me, and with a single hasty glance seemed to dive into my eyes.
I flatter myself I read as much in your eye (beware, by-the-by, what you express with that organ; I am quick at interpreting its language).
Dread remorse when you are tempted to err,...remorse is the poison of life.
You have no right to preach to me, you neophyte, that have not passed the porch of life, and are absolutely unaquainted with its mysteries.
Chapter 15
Till morning dawned I was tossed on a buoyant but unquiet sea, where billows of tourble rolled under surges of joy.
Chapter 16
...Dusk was now fast deepening into to total obscurity.
When once more alone, I reviewed the information I had got; looked into my heart, examined its thoughts and feelings, and endeavored to bring back with a strict hand such as had been straying through imagination's boundless and trackless waste, into the safe fold of common sense.
...that a more fantastic idiot had never surfieted herself on sweet lies, and swallowed poison as if it were nectar.
Chapter 17
...It was wonderful how I got over the temporary blunder- how I cleared up the mistake of supposing Mr. Rochester's movements a matter in which I had any cause to take a vital interest.
He is not of your order; keep to your caste; and be too self respecting to lavish the love of the whole heart, sould, and stength, where such a gift is not wanted and would be despised.
No sooner did I see that his attention was rivited on them, and that I might faze without being observed, than my eyes were drawn involuntarily to his face; I could not keep their lids under control; they would rise, and the irids would fix on him. I looked, and had an acute pleasure in looking-a precious, yet poignant pleasure; with a steely point of agony, a pleasure like what the thirst-perishing man might feel who knows the will to which he has crept is poisoned, yet stoops and drinks divine draughts nevertheless.
I had not intended to love him; the reader knows I had wrought hard to extripate from my sould the germs of love there detected; and now, at the first renewed view of him, they spontaneously revived' green and strong! He made me love him without looking at me.
I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him.
Blasphemy against nature!
I must smother hope; I must remember that he cannot care for me. For when I say that I am of his kind, I do not mean that I have his force to influence, and his spell to attract; I mean only that I have certain tastes and feeling in common with him, I must, then, repeat continually that we are forever sundered; and yet, while I breathe and think, I must love him.
Chapter 18
I have told you, reader that I had learned to love Mr. Rochester. I could not unlove him now, merely because I found that he had ceased to notice me...
...As for the vague something...that opened upon a careful observer, now and then, in his eye, and closed again before one could fathom the strange depth....Instead of wishing to shun, I longed only to dare, to divine it; and I thought Miss Ingram happy, because one day she might look into the abyss at her leisure, explore its secrets, and analyze their nature.
Chapter 20
To live, for me, Jane, is to stand on a crater-crust which may crack and spue fire any day.
...while the sun drinks the dew....
...don't you curse me for disturbing your rest?
Chapter 21
Presentiments are strange things! and so are sympathies, and so are signs; and the three combined make one mystery to which humanity has not yet found the key.
And signs, for aught we know, may not be but the sympathies of nature with man.
And how do people perform the ceremony of parting, Jane? Teach me; I'm not quite up to it.
It is enough, sir; as much good-will may be conveyed in one hearty word as in many.
Young ladies have a remarkable way of letting you know that they think you a "quiz," without actually saying the words. A certain superciliousness of look, coolness of manner, nonchalance of tone, express fully their sentiments on the point, without committing them by any positive rudeness in word or deed.
...representing any scene that happened momentarily to shape itself in the ever-shifting kaleidoscope of imagination.
Feeling without judgement is a washy draught indeed; but judgement untempered by feeling is too bitter and husky a morsel for human deglutition.
Her life was shortened by trouble.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Jane Eyre Part One
Chapter 1
I was shrined in double retirement.
Chapter 2
I was conscious that a moment's mutiny had already rendered me liable to strange penalties, and, like any other rebel slave, I felt resolved, in my desperation, to go all lengths.
I thought it like one of the tiny phantoms, half fairy, half imp, Bessie's evening stories represented as coming out of lone, ferny dells, in morrs, and appearing before the eyes of belated travellers.
"Unjust! unjust!" said my reason, forced by the agonizing stimulus into precocious though transitory power; and Resolve equally wrought up, instigated some strange expedient to achieve escape from insupportable oppression-as running away, or if that could not be effected, never eating or drinking more, and letting myself die.
What a consternation of soul was mine that dreary afternoon!
Daylight began to forsake the red-room.
...Soon after she was gone, I suppose I had a species of fit; unconscienciousness closed the scene.
Chapter 3
...The fire and the candle went out. For me, the watches of that long night passed in ghastly wakefulness; ear, eye, and mind were alike strained by dread; such dread as children only can feel.
Abbot, I think, fave me credit for being a sort of infantine Guy Fawkes.
Chapter 4
I say scarcely voluntary, for it seemed as if my tongue pronounced words without my will consenting to their utterance; something spoke out of me over which I had no control.
To this crib I always took my doll....I was comparatively happy, believing it happy likewise.
...My little world held a contrary opinion...
Speak I must; I had been trodden on severly, and must turn; but how? What strangth had I to dart retaliation at my atagonist? I gathered my energies and launched them in this blunt sentence:...
Even for me life had its gleams of sunshine.
Chapter 5
Discipline prevailed: in five minutes the confused throng was resolved into order, and comparative silence quelled the Babel clamor of tongues.
Chapter 6
Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs.
Chapter 8
The spell by which I had been so far supported began to dissolve; reaction took place, and soon, so overwhelming was the grief that seized me, I sunk prostrate with my face to the ground. Now I wept.
Then her soul sat on her lips, and language flowed, from what source I cannot tell. Has a girl of fourteen a heart large enough, vigorous enough, to hlod the swelling spring of pure, full, fervid eloquence?
...my organ of veneration expanding at every sounding line.
Chapter 9
...a greeness grew over those brown beds, freshening daily, suggested that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps. Flowers peeped out among the leaves-snowdrops crocuses, purple auriculas, and golden-eyed pansies.
Chapter 10
I desired liberty; for liberty I gasped; for liberty I uttered a prayer; it seemed on the wind then faintly blowing.
Chapter 11
The charm of adventure sweetens that sensation, the glow of pride warms it; but then the throb of fear disturbs it...
...it is a pity that doing one's best does not always answer.
My couch had no thorns in it that night; my solitary room no fears.
Chapter 12
It is vain to say humans being ought to be satisfied with tranquility...
I was shrined in double retirement.
Chapter 2
I was conscious that a moment's mutiny had already rendered me liable to strange penalties, and, like any other rebel slave, I felt resolved, in my desperation, to go all lengths.
I thought it like one of the tiny phantoms, half fairy, half imp, Bessie's evening stories represented as coming out of lone, ferny dells, in morrs, and appearing before the eyes of belated travellers.
"Unjust! unjust!" said my reason, forced by the agonizing stimulus into precocious though transitory power; and Resolve equally wrought up, instigated some strange expedient to achieve escape from insupportable oppression-as running away, or if that could not be effected, never eating or drinking more, and letting myself die.
What a consternation of soul was mine that dreary afternoon!
Daylight began to forsake the red-room.
...Soon after she was gone, I suppose I had a species of fit; unconscienciousness closed the scene.
Chapter 3
...The fire and the candle went out. For me, the watches of that long night passed in ghastly wakefulness; ear, eye, and mind were alike strained by dread; such dread as children only can feel.
Abbot, I think, fave me credit for being a sort of infantine Guy Fawkes.
Chapter 4
I say scarcely voluntary, for it seemed as if my tongue pronounced words without my will consenting to their utterance; something spoke out of me over which I had no control.
To this crib I always took my doll....I was comparatively happy, believing it happy likewise.
...My little world held a contrary opinion...
Speak I must; I had been trodden on severly, and must turn; but how? What strangth had I to dart retaliation at my atagonist? I gathered my energies and launched them in this blunt sentence:...
Even for me life had its gleams of sunshine.
Chapter 5
Discipline prevailed: in five minutes the confused throng was resolved into order, and comparative silence quelled the Babel clamor of tongues.
Chapter 6
Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs.
Chapter 8
The spell by which I had been so far supported began to dissolve; reaction took place, and soon, so overwhelming was the grief that seized me, I sunk prostrate with my face to the ground. Now I wept.
Then her soul sat on her lips, and language flowed, from what source I cannot tell. Has a girl of fourteen a heart large enough, vigorous enough, to hlod the swelling spring of pure, full, fervid eloquence?
...my organ of veneration expanding at every sounding line.
Chapter 9
...a greeness grew over those brown beds, freshening daily, suggested that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps. Flowers peeped out among the leaves-snowdrops crocuses, purple auriculas, and golden-eyed pansies.
Chapter 10
I desired liberty; for liberty I gasped; for liberty I uttered a prayer; it seemed on the wind then faintly blowing.
Chapter 11
The charm of adventure sweetens that sensation, the glow of pride warms it; but then the throb of fear disturbs it...
...it is a pity that doing one's best does not always answer.
My couch had no thorns in it that night; my solitary room no fears.
Chapter 12
It is vain to say humans being ought to be satisfied with tranquility...
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