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Charlotte Brontë

From Retrospection

We wove a web in childhood, dug a spring in infancy, sowed a mustard seed, and cut an almond rod. Are they withered in the sod? The web of air is still there, but its folds are spread, and its...

2 min read · Rating: G · Read story

On The Death Of Anne Bronte

There's little joy in life for me, and little terror in the grave; I've lived the parting hour to see of one I would have died to save, and I thank God from my heart.

< 1 min read · Rating: G · Read story

Pleasure

True pleasure breathes not city air, nor in art's temples dwells, but in stately groves where high Nature holds Her court. Go where the woods in beauty sleep, or where the hollow sounds of night...

1 min read · Rating: G · Read story

Speak of the North! A Lonely Moor

A lonely moor, a wild streamlet, a lifeless landscape, a stag drinking from the stream, a mountain zone, and one star light the unclouded skies in the north.

< 1 min read · Rating: G · Read story

From Retrospection

We weave a web in childhood, dig a spring in infancy, sow a mustard seed, cut an almond rod, and are now grown up to riper age. The web of air is still there, but its folds are spread, and its...

2 min read · Rating: G · Read story