Charlotte Brontë

the solitary rocks and promontories”

Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion. To attack the first is not to assail the last. To pluck the mask from the face of the Pharisee, is not to lift an impious hand

I mean the timorous or carping few who doubt the tendency of such books as “Jane Eyre:” in whose eyes whatever is unusual is wrong; whose ears detect in each protest against bigotry—that parent of crime—an insult to piety, that regent of God on earth. I would suggest to such doubters certain obvious distinctions; I would remind them of certain simple truths.

Conventionality is not morality.

I soon possessed myself of a volume, taking care that it should be one stored with pictures.

Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion. To attack the first is not to assail the last.

Who blames me? Many, no doubt; and I shall be called discontented. I could not help it: the restlessness was in my nature; it agitated me to pain sometimes.

It is in vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquillity: they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it.

What good it would have done me at that time to have been tossed in the storms of an uncertain struggling life, and to have been taught by rough and bitter experience to long for the calm amidst which I now repined!

“You examine me, Miss Eyre,” said he: “do you think me handsome?”

Miss Eyre; remorse is the poison of life.”

“Repentance is said to be its cure, sir.”