1847

I would always rather be happy than dignified.

Jane Eyre: An Autobiography · 1847

★ 3.9

Reader, I married him.

Jane Eyre: An Autobiography · 1847

★ 3.9

I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free.

Emily Bronte

Wuthering Heights · 1847

★ 3.9

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

Emily Bronte

Wuthering Heights · 1847

★ 3.9

I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will.

Jane Eyre: An Autobiography · 1847

★ 3.8

It is in vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquility: they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it.

Jane Eyre: An Autobiography · 1847

★ 3.8

Prejudices, it is well known, are most difficult to eradicate from the heart whose soil has never been loosened or fertilised by education.

Jane Eyre: An Autobiography · 1847

★ 3.8

Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!

Emily Bronte

Wuthering Heights · 1847

★ 3.8

My future husband was becoming to me my whole world; and more than the world: almost my hope of heaven. He stood between me and every thought of religion, as an eclipse intervenes between man and the broad sun. I could not, in those days, see God for His creature: of whom I had made an idol.

Jane Eyre: An Autobiography · 1847

★ 3.7

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.

Alfred Tennyson

The Princess · 1847

★ 3.5

Man for the field and woman for the hearth: Man for the sword and for the needle she: Man with the head and woman with the heart: Man to command and woman to obey; All else confusion.

Alfred Tennyson

The Princess · 1847

★ 3.5

The Night is mother of the Day, The Winter of the Spring, And ever upon old Decay The greenest mosses cling.

John Greenleaf Whittier

A Dream of Summer · 1847

★ 3.5

This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

1847

★ 3.5

I have for the first time found what I can truly love—I have found you.

Life consists in what a man is thinking of all day.

Jane Eyre: An Autobiography · 1847

★ 2.2

Personal journal

Ralph Waldo Emerson

1847

★ 2.1

Man is the hunter; woman is his game.

Alfred Tennyson

The Princess · 1847

★ 2.0

London is a modern Babylon.

Benjamin Disraeli

1847

★ 2.0

The more one gets to know of men, the more one values dogs.

Alphonse Toussenel

1847

★ 1.9

Poem · Journal

The skies they were ashen and sober; The leaves they were crisped and sere, The leaves they were withering and sere; It was night in the lonesome October Of my most immemorial year.

Edgar Allan Poe

American Whig Review · 1847

★ 1.9

Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs.