Even For Me Life Had Its Gleams

I Believe She Thought I Had Forgotten My Station; And Yours, Sir.' 'station! Station!-- Your Station Is In My Heart, And On The Necks Of Those Who Would Insult You, Now Or Hereafter.

I Tired Of The Routine Of Eight Years In One Afternoon.

The Negation Of Severe Suffering Was The Nearest Approach To Happiness I Expected To Know. Besides, I Seemed To Hold Two Lives - The Life Of Thought, And That Of Reality.

I Was Actually Permitting Myself To Experience A Sickening Sense Of Disappointment: But Rallying My Wits, And Recollecting My Principles, I At Once Called My Sensations To Order; And 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 Vital Interest.

Conventionality Is Not Morality.