Last night I finished reading Charlotte Brontë's "Shirley" and it left me with such a sweet taste in my mouth that I can't keep it to myself. Besides the fact that I felt like reading each paragraph twice, because every aspect was expressed in a nice way that couldn't be overlook, I found that some of my beliefs were appliable to the characters' lives. And there were all kinds of personalities, each one emphasized by the contrasting presence of the other.

Okay, I don't want to go into detail, I'll just post some of my favourite fragments:

'he exclaimed, abruptly, - "This won't do! There's weakness - there's downright ruin in all this. However," he added, dropping his voice, "the frenzy is quite temporary. I know it very well; I have had it before. It will be gone tomorrow." ' (makes you wonder how long he will keep lying to himself that what he feels is short-lived passion)

"Caroline Helstone was just eighteen years old, and at eighteen the true narrative of life is yet to be commenced. Before that time we sit listening to a tale, a marvellous fiction, delightful sometimes and sad sometimes, almost always unreal. Before that time our world is heroic, its inhabitants half-divine or semi-demon; its scenes are dream-scenes; darker woods and stranger hills, brighter skies, more dangerous waters, sweeter flowers, more tempting fruits, wider plains, drearier deserts, sunnier fields than are found in nature, over- spread our enchanted globe. What a moon we gaze on before that time! How the trembling of our hearts at her aspect bears witness to its unutterable beauty! As to our sun, it is a burning heaven - the world of gods." (quite right, huh?)

Louis Moore: "I used rather to like Solitude - to fancy her a somewhat quiet and serious, yet fair nymph; an Oread, descending to me from lone mountain-passes; something of the blue mist of hills in her array and of their chill breeze in her breath - but much, also, of their solemn beauty in her mien. I once could court her serenely, and imagine my heart easier when I held her to it - all mute, but majestic.
Since that day I called S. to me in the schoolroom, and she came and sat so near my side; since she opened the trouble of her mind to me - asked my protection - appealed to my strength: since that hour I abhor Solitude. Cold abstraction - fleshless skeleton - daughter - mother - and mate of Death!" (*speechless*)

Louis Moore: "through this pencil, I can say what I will - say what I dare utter to nothing living - say what I dare not think aloud."

Oh and there are a lot more but enough for now. And enough with charming books.

How's life?


P.S.: Good Times are to come