I leave off therefore, Since in a net I seek to hold the wind.

"Whoso list to hunt" - Sir Thomas Wyatt

"... existence itself is a prison, the body its walls, and eternity has become the real home... life is a form of exile; the pain of individual consciousness resolves finally into the ache of the soul's homesickness for death."

Charlotte Brontë's World of Death - Robert Keefe

“This girl who stands so quiet and grave at the mouth of hell. This girl who is all quietness and sanity and innocence. You wondered why I wanted her?”

Charlotte Brontë, from ‘Jane Eyre’

I used to think what a delight it would be for one who loved him better than he loved himself, to gather and store up those handfuls of gold-dust, so recklessly flung to heaven's reckless winds.

Villette - Charlotte Brontë

Taking the weed from his lips, he threw the remnant amongst the shrubs, where, for a moment, it lay glowing in the gloom.

Villette - Charlotte Brontë

“The truly wild can’t be captured, only invited to submit…”

— LORD BYRON (via punlovsin)

I heard him too in the warm evenings, lecturing with open doors . . .

Villette - Charlotte Brontë