Posts tagged jane eyre

I don’t think, sir, you have a right to command me, merely because you are older than I, or because you have seen more of the world than I have; your claim to superiority depends on the use you have made of your time and experience.
Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre.

Tell him, Jane!  (via hopefullywildeandfree)

8 notes

sociallyawkwardapple:

If you were mad, do you think I should hate you?
breast, almonds, jane eyre

//writing an essay and going a bit crazy

sociallyawkwardapple:

If you were mad, do you think I should hate you?

breast, almonds, jane eyre


//writing an essay and going a bit crazy

7 notes

I had wrought hard to extirpate from my soul the germs of love there detected; and now, at the first renewed view of him, they spontaneously revived, great and strong! He made me love him without looking at me.
Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte (via thefantasticalimpractical)

11 notes

I had a theoretical reverence and homage for beauty, elegance, gallantry, fascination; but had I met those qualities incarnate in masculine shape, I should have known instinctively that they neither had nor could have sympathy with anything in me, and should have shunned them as one would fire, lightning, or anything else that is bright but antipathetic.
Charlotte Brontë - Jane Eyre (via abscondita)

8 notes

‘I cannot see my prospects clearly to-night, sir; and I hardly know what thoughts I have in my head. Everything in life seems unreal.’
‘Except me: I am substantial enough - touch me.’
‘You, sir, are the most phantom-like of all: you are a mere dream.’
Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë (via a-cautionary-tale)

6 notes

Not many months ago, the New England States were visited by a distressing mental epidemic, passing under the name of the “Jane Eyre fever” … The hero, Mr. Rochester … became a great favorite in the boarding-schools and in the worshipful society of governesses. That portion of Young America known as ladies’ men began to swagger and swear in the presence of the gentler sex, and to allude darkly to events in their lives which excused impudence and profanity.
“Novels of the Season” by E. P. Whittle, North American Review, October 1848 (via a-wild-condorcet-appears)

18 notes

celestialmazer:

Julia Callon - Houses of Fiction

Artist Statement: Houses of Fiction

       ‘Whether domestic spaces are depicted as places of confinement or refuge, the private sphere is an evident preoccupation for many nineteenth-century female writers. Often a reflection of women’s ‘place’ in society, the stories depicted in this series demonstrate the metaphorical and literal significance of space. Borrowing partially from literary criticism, this series attempts to synthesize ideas and images through the process of interpretation and adaptation. In each of the five selected stories conventional notions of womanhood are undermined, inciting conflict and eventually ‘madness’ - this tension is implicit in each of the narratives examined.
        The dichotomous representation of women - mad or sane - is crucial to represent in this series. Therefore, each story is presented as a diptych: one image represents the passive, subservient woman, while the other image represents ‘madness’. The first image is literal and based on the emphatic description of space in the individual stories. Alternatively, the representation of the maddening consequence of confinement.

http://www.juliacallon.com

48 notes

jessarowan:

“A new chapter in a novel is something like a new scene in a play; and when I draw up the curtain this time, reader, you must fancy you see a room in the George Inn at Millcote, with such large-figured papering on the walls as inn rooms have; such a carpet, such furniture, such ornaments on the mantelpiece, such prints, including a portrait of George the Third, and another of the Prince of Wales, and a representation of the death of Wolfe. All of this is visible to you by the light of an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, and by that of an excellent fire, near which I sit in my cloak and bonnet; my muff and umbrella lie on the table, and I am warming away the numbness and chill contracted by sixteen hours’ exposure to the rawness of an October day: I left Lowton at four o’ clock a.m., and the Millcote town clock is now just striking eight.”
      — JANE EYRE 
Stephanie

jessarowan:

“A new chapter in a novel is something like a new scene in a play; and when I draw up the curtain this time, reader, you must fancy you see a room in the George Inn at Millcote, with such large-figured papering on the walls as inn rooms have; such a carpet, such furniture, such ornaments on the mantelpiece, such prints, including a portrait of George the Third, and another of the Prince of Wales, and a representation of the death of Wolfe. All of this is visible to you by the light of an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, and by that of an excellent fire, near which I sit in my cloak and bonnet; my muff and umbrella lie on the table, and I am warming away the numbness and chill contracted by sixteen hours’ exposure to the rawness of an October day: I left Lowton at four o’ clock a.m., and the Millcote town clock is now just striking eight.”

      — JANE EYRE 

Stephanie

2 notes