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Charlotte Bronte

"Belgium! name unromantic and unpoetic, yet name that whenever uttered has in my ear a sound, in my heart an echo, such as no other assemblage of syllables, however sweet or classic, can produce. Belgium! I repeat the word, now as I sit alone near midnight. It stirs my world of the past like a summons to resurrection; the graves unclose, the dead are raised; thoughts, feelings, memories that slept, are seen by me ascending from the clods--haloed most of them--but while I gaze on their vapoury forms, and strive to ascertain definitely their outline, the sound which wakened them dies, and they sink, each and all, like a light wreath of mist, absorbed in the mould, recalled to urns, resealed in monuments."

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"Belgium! name unromantic and unpoetic, yet name that whenever uttered has in my ear a sound, in my heart an echo, such as no other assemblage of syllables, however sweet or classic, can produce. Belgium! I repeat the word, now as I sit alone near midnight. It stirs my world of the past like a summons to resurrection; the graves unclose, the dead are raised; thoughts, feelings, memories that slept, are seen by me ascending from the clods--haloed most of them--but while I gaze on their vapoury forms, and strive to ascertain definitely their outline, the sound which wakened them dies, and they sink, each and all, like a light wreath of mist, absorbed in the mould, recalled to urns, resealed in monuments."

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"Summertime. It was a song. It was a season. I wondered if that season would ever live inside of me."

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"Nostalgia for the 20th century brain helps nobody."

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Amber Hurdle

"Isn't it weird the way you remember things, when someone's gone?"

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"Nostalgia often leads to idle speculation."

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"Moments always blossom more beautifully in memories."

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Amber Hurdle

"As he turns around and her eyes meet his, she lets go off the breath that she had been holding back. All the words she had practised to say when the moment arrived, dissolve at the tip of her tongue. All the things she wanted him to know escape her in the thick blanket of nostalgia that wraps itself around her."

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Amber Hurdle

"I remember our childhood dayswhen life was easyand math problems hard.Mom would help us with our homeworkand dad was not at home but at work.After our chores, we'd go to the old fort museum with clips in our hair and pure joy in our hearts.You, sister, wore the bangles thatyou, brother, got as a prize from the Dentist."Why the bangles? the Dentist asked, surprised, for boys picked the stickers of cars instead."They're for my sisters, you said.Mom would treat us to a bottle of Coke,a few sips each. Then,we'd buy the sweet smelling bread from the same white vanand hand-in-hand,we'd walk to our small flat above the restaurant.I remember our childhood days.Do you remember them too?"

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Amber Hurdle

"Oh longing for places that were not Cherished enough in that fleeting hour How I long to make good from afar The forgotten gesture the additional act."

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Amber Hurdle

"Summer was a book of hope. That's why I loved and hated summers. Because they made me want to believe."

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Charlotte Bronte
". . . nobody in particular is to blame, that I can see, for the state in which things are . . ."
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Charlotte Bronte
"Jane, will you marry me?""Yes sir.""A poor blind man, whom you will have to lead about by the hand?""Yes, sir.""A crippled man, twenty years older older than you, whom you will have to wait on?""Yes, sir.""Truly, Jane?""Most truly, sir."
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Charlotte Bronte
"Poverty, for me, is synonymous with degradation."
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Charlotte Bronte
"I doubt if I have made the best use of all my calamities. Soft, amiable natures they would have refined to saintliness; of strong, evil spirits they would have made demons; as for me, I have only been a woe-struck and selfish woman."
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Charlotte Bronte
"I wait, with some impatience in my pulse, but no doubt in my breast."
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Charlotte Bronte
"God waits only the separation of spirit from flesh to crown us with a full reward. Why, then, should we ever sink overwhelmed with distress, when life is so soon over, and death is so certain an entrance to happiness -- to glory?"
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Charlotte Bronte
"I thought I loved him when he went away; I love him now in another degree: he is more my own. [ . . . ] Oh! a thousand weepers, praying in agony on waiting shores, listened for that voice, but it was not uttered--not uttered till; when the hush came, some could not feel it: till, when the sun returned, his light was night to some!"
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Charlotte Bronte
"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will."
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Charlotte Bronte
"Your will shall decide your destiny."
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Charlotte Bronte
"Of an artistic temperament, I deny that I am; yet I must possess something of the artist's faculty of making the most of present pleasure."
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