Sometimes I think that I get way too emotionally affected by books to do the work of a critic. Tonight I'm working on a paper and keep getting swept up into Jane Eyre. I can't help it.


Jane in the moment of her greatest distress:

One idea only still throbbed life-like within me--a remembrance of God: it begot an unuttered prayer: these words went wandering up and down in my rayless mind, as something that should be whispered; but no energy was found to express them:--"Be not far from me, for trouble is near: there is none to help."

...and this is just one of the reasons I love Jane Eyre.