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.