Fair As A Lily, And Not Only

Youth Has Its Romance, And Maturity Its Wisdom, As Morning And Spring Have Their Freshness, Noon And Summer Their Power, Night And Winter Their Repose. Each Attribute Is Good In Its Own Season.

Feeling Without Judgement Is A Washy Draught Indeed; But Judgement Untempered By Feeling Is Too Bitter And Husky A Morsel For Human Deglutition.

I Could Not Answer The Ceaseless Inward Question-why I Thus Suffered; Now, At The Distance Of-i Will Not Say How Many Years, I See It Clearly.

Jane, I Never Meant To Wound You Thus...will You Ever Forgive Me?" Reader, I Forgave Him At The Moment And On The Spot.

I Am Not An Angel,' I Asserted; 'and I Will Not Be One Till I Die: I Will Be Myself. Mr. Rochester, You Must Neither Expect Nor Exact Anything Celestial Of Me - For You Will Not Get It, Any More Than I Shall Get It Of You: Which I Do Not At All Anticipate.