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“Have you a pocket-comb about you, sir?�

“What for, Jane?�

“Just to comb out this shaggy black mane.  I find you rather alarming, when I examine you close at hand: you talk of my being a fairy, but I am sure, you are more like a brownie.�

“Am I hideous, Jane?"

“Very, sir: you always were, you know.�

“I scorn your idea of love,� I could not help saying, as I rose up and stood before him, leaning my back against the rock.  “I scorn the counterfeit sentiment you offer: yes, and I scorn you when you offer it.�

I care for myself.  The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself.  I will keep the law given by God; sanctioned by man. Laws and principles are not for the times when there is no temptation: they are for such moments as this, when body and soul rise in mutiny against their rigour. If at my individual convenience I might break them, what would be their worth?

A Christmas frost had come at midsummer; a white December storm had whirled over June; ice glazed the ripe apples, drifts crushed the blowing roses; on hayfield and cornfield lay a frozen shroud . . .

"Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless?  You think wrong!—I have as much soul as you,—and full as much heart!  And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you."

I knew by her stony eye—opaque to tenderness, indissoluble to tears—that she was resolved to consider me bad to the last; because to believe me good would give her no generous pleasure: only a sense of mortification.

“Your fortune is yet doubtful: when I examined your face, one trait contradicted another.  Chance has meted you a measure of happiness: that I know. She has laid it carefully on one side for you.  I saw her do it.  It depends on yourself to stretch out your hand, and take it up: but whether you will do so, is the problem I study."

“Are you injured, sir?�

I think he was swearing, but am not certain; however, he was pronouncing some formula which prevented him from replying to me directly.

--That'll be my excuse next time I let slip some word I shouldn't say.

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 piano and embroidering.

The unhealthy nature of the site; the quantity and quality of the children’s food; the brackish, fetid water used in its preparation; the pupils� wretched clothing and accommodations—all these things were discovered, and the discovery produced a result mortifying to Mr. Brocklehurst, but beneficial to the institution.