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The Quilty Reader

Lawyer, mother, avid reader. Game host extraordinaire! Partner in crime to Obsidian Black Plague! My bookish weaknesses include classics, fantasy, YA, and agreeing to read more books than is even remotely possible.

Reading progress update: I've read 89 out of 322 pages.

Jane Eyre - Charlotte Brontë

This post is basically just a list of my favorite quotes from this reread:



Do you know where the wicked go after death?”


“They go to hell,” was my ready and orthodox answer.


“And what is hell? Can you tell me that?”


“A pit full of fire.”


“And should you like to fall into that pit, and to be burning there for ever?”


“No, sir.”


“What must you do to avoid it?”


I deliberated a moment; my answer, when it did come, was objectionable: “I must keep in good health, and not die.”


(I love this so much)



“You ask rather too many questions. I have given you answers enough for the present: now I want to read.”


(This needs to be on a coffee mug at my desk)




But Helen was ill at present: for some weeks she had been removed from my sight to I knew not what room upstairs. She was not, I was told, in the hospital portion of the house with the fever patients; for her complaint was consumption, not typhus: and by consumption I, in my ignorance, understood something mild, which time and care would be sure to alleviate.
(Poor Helen)
I sometimes regretted that I was not handsomer; I sometimes wished to have rosy cheeks, a straight nose, and small cherry mouth; I desired to be tall, stately, and finely developed in figure; I felt it a misfortune that I was so little, so pale, and had features so irregular and so marked.
(Jane sounds like a Victorian Kate Moss or something).
Mrs. Fairfax stayed behind a moment to fasten the trap-door; I, by drift of groping, found the outlet from the attic, and proceeded to descend the narrow garret staircase. I lingered in the long passage to which this led, separating the front and back rooms of the third storey: narrow, low, and dim, with only one little window at the far end, and looking, with its two rows of small black doors all shut, like a corridor in some Bluebeard’s castle.
(I didn't recall that Charlotte Bronte actually alluded directly to Bluebeard's castle)
Women are supposed to be very calm generally: but women feel just as men feel; they need exercise for their faculties, and a field for their efforts, as much as their brothers do; they suffer from too rigid a restraint, too absolute a stagnation, precisely as men would suffer; and it is narrow-minded in their more privileged fellow-creatures to say that they ought to confine themselves to making puddings and knitting stockings, to playing on the piano and embroidering bags.
(Charlotte, challenging the patriarchy since 1847).
And a picture of Norton Conyers House, a possible model for Thornfield Hall.