Character: Jane Eyre. Page 1

Not that I lost support, but waned some internal stimulus; no calm left in me, but disappeared the reasons for this tranquility.

My eyes were closed; it seemed that all around me thickening the darkness, and the thoughts raging in me like a dark and stormy tide. Exhausted, weakened, without will, I seemed to be lying on the bottom of the dried up large rivers. I heard from the mountains rushing powerful stream and approaching me, but I have no desire to get up, I didn't have the strength to escape from him. I lay in exhaustion, calling death. The thought fluttered in me some weak life: it was a remembrance of God; it lived in silent prayer; her unspoken words little glimmer in my clouded mind, I had to utter them aloud, but do not have the strength...
"Don't walk away from me, for grief is near and no one to help me".
Oh, it was close! And since I didn't ask heaven to avert it, not folded hands, bowed knees, opened the mouth, it has struck me; mighty, flowing stream washed over me with terrible force. The bitter consciousness of lost life, broken my love, my lost hopes, my prostrate faith - it all rushed to me with a massive dark mass. This terrible tea defies description. Truly "all thy billows and thy waves swept over me".

But you know perfectly well what you think not about them but about someone else who doesn't think about you.

And I don't need a man, not similar to me, not cute to me. I need my family, those with whom I feel a complete harmony of views and tastes.

You tell me, fairy, can't you use any magic potions or something like that to turn me into a handsome man?
No potion will not help here, sir.
And mentally I added, "the Only magic that will work is a loving heart. And for him you are quite beautiful. Or rather - your the severity is more captivating than any beauty."

The mind sits firmly in the saddle and holding the reins, he will not allow the senses to break free and inspire him into the abyss. Let wildly raging passion, raw heathens, in essence, let the desire of the promise to many worldly pleasures is the last word in every argument will be for common sense as a decisive voice in every decision. Whether a hurricane, earthquake or fire - I'm still going to follow the counsel that quiet voice which interprets the dictates of conscience.

To make you understand how my spirit now like prison, where you do not get any light, and only the fear in chains clinging in the corner, fear that you will convince me to take that I don't do this.

I loved him so much! So much so that you couldn't Express, so much that it does not have the words.

And here the precious plate ended up on my lap, and Bessie gently persuaded me to eat lying on her treat. Futile generosity! It came too late, as many of the gifts that we crave and which we have long denied!

Oh, that gentleness! How it is more powerful than force!

Oh, God I'm ready to give my heart. But you don't need it.

I didn't want to keep his vanity, which was, incidentally, his weak side, but, as an exception, for some reason, I was ready to flatter him.

In the flickering candlelight was, I think, more soul than these smiles; the ringing of the bell was more meaningful than the laughter.

Steppe burial mound, covered by a raging, all-devouring flame, might serve as the emblem of my soul, when I accused Mrs. reed and threatened her: the same step, but a black, incinerated - that's the way my state of mind when, after half an hour of meditation in silence, I realized how reckless my behavior was and how hard it is to be hated and to hate.