Portrait of a Dreamer

tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74107027946548207952012-02-17T02:00:41.487ZPortrait of a DreamerHannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.comBlogger1601100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-64157161782061572552009-07-03T22:30:00.002+01:002009-07-03T22:33:04.059+01:00New blog update

Hi everybodyJust to let anyone who's still looking at this blog know that I've found a way for people from blogger to view my new blog so if you want access, email me or leave a comment and I'll send you the link.I really hated that only certain users could read it!

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com42tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-6693379960440896352009-06-10T22:28:00.001+01:002009-06-10T22:30:03.380+01:00How to get into my new blog

Ok so now it seems that the only way to invite people to read a private blog is to get their usernames so if you want an invite now, send me your wordpress username. Unfortunately this doesn't help non-wordpress users so I'm really sorry but if you want to read it all you have to do is set up a wordpress account which is really really easy!So write your username in a comment and I'll add you and

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-54983083751537254532009-06-09T21:44:00.004+01:002009-06-09T23:08:51.401+01:00Explanation

If you're a regular visitor to this blog then you may have noticed that it was recently deleted. Some friends discovered my blog and it has since become necessary to remove my blog from public viewings and so it is now invite only over at wordpress. This blog has only been reinstated now so that I can post that explanation. If you want an invite to the blog then leave me a comment here with your

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-35330998507175796522009-06-03T23:59:00.004+01:002009-06-10T18:22:13.296+01:00And things go on

There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that further out-door exercise was now out of the question. I was glad of it: I never liked long walks,

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-48103117919965411752009-06-01T00:00:00.003+01:002009-06-10T18:22:59.324+01:00Today

"What does Bessie say I have done?" I asked. "Jane, I don't like cavillers or questioners; besides, there is something truly forbidding in a child taking up her elders in that manner. Be seated somewhere; and until you can speak pleasantly, remain silent." A breakfast-room adjoined the drawing-room, I slipped in there. It contained a bookcase: I soon possessed myself of a volume, taking care

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-5228388023356426962009-05-24T22:34:00.003+01:002009-06-10T18:23:29.160+01:00MIA

Nor could I pass unnoticed the suggestion of the bleak shores of Lapland, Siberia, Spitzbergen, Nova Zembla, Iceland, Greenland, with "the vast sweep of the Arctic Zone, and those forlorn regions of dreary space,--that reservoir of frost and snow, where firm fields of ice, the accumulation of centuries of winters, glazed in Alpine heights above heights, surround the pole, and concentre the

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-19453146009988749422009-05-13T19:02:00.004+01:002009-06-10T18:24:17.051+01:00Do other people feel like this?

The two ships becalmed on a torpid sea, I believed to be marine phantoms. The fiend pinning down the thief's pack behind him, I passed over quickly: it was an object of terror. So was the black horned thing seated aloof on a rock, surveying a distant crowd surrounding a gallows. Each picture told a story; mysterious often to my undeveloped understanding and imperfect feelings, yet ever

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-57244756950458348992009-05-12T02:39:00.004+01:002009-06-10T18:24:55.353+01:00A Three Pronged Attack

John had not much affection for his mother and sisters, and an antipathy to me. He bullied and punished me; not two or three times in the week, nor once or twice in the day, but continually: every nerve I had feared him, and every morsel of flesh in my bones shrank when he came near. There were moments when I was bewildered by the terror he inspired, because I had no appeal whatever against

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-77766986556947005332009-05-06T21:06:00.001+01:002009-06-10T18:25:49.799+01:00We regret to inform you...

"Wicked and cruel boy!" I said. "You are like a murderer--you are like a slave-driver--you are like the Roman emperors!" I had read Goldsmith's History of Rome, and had formed my opinion of Nero, Caligula, &c. Also I had drawn parallels in silence, which I never thought thus to have declared aloud. "What! what!" he cried. "Did she say that to me? Did you hear her, Eliza and Georgiana?

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-85416829800927284242009-05-06T18:43:00.003+01:002009-06-10T18:26:38.992+01:00Head in the books

"No; you are less than a servant, for you do nothing for your keep. There, sit down, and think over your wickedness." They had got me by this time into the apartment indicated by Mrs. Reed, and had thrust me upon a stool: my impulse was to rise from it like a spring; their two pair of hands arrested me instantly. "If you don't sit still, you must be tied down," said Bessie. "Miss Abbot, lend

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-18900114810292403462009-05-03T00:03:00.004+01:002009-06-10T18:27:32.647+01:00My head

They went, shutting the door, and locking it behind them. The red-room was a square chamber, very seldom slept in, I might say never, indeed, unless when a chance influx of visitors at Gateshead Hall rendered it necessary to turn to account all the accommodation it contained: yet it was one of the largest and stateliest chambers in the mansion. A bed supported on massive pillars of mahogany,

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-71538048547095229082009-04-24T10:43:00.005+01:002009-06-10T18:28:25.847+01:00Update

Superstition was with me at that moment; but it was not yet her hour for complete victory: my blood was still warm; the mood of the revolted slave was still bracing me with its bitter vigour; I had to stem a rapid rush of retrospective thought before I quailed to the dismal present. All John Reed's violent tyrannies, all his sisters' proud indifference, all his mother's aversion, all the

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-8551080937255698192009-04-20T00:45:00.002+01:002009-04-20T01:18:11.670+01:00Top 10 favourite films of the moment

Ok, in no particular order and just for a little bit of light relief, here I'm are my current (so probably most recently watched) top 10 favourite films. The list will probably have changed in about an hour but might as well go for it.1. The Edge of Love - Just watched it tonight and although it's not really a film for light relief, it was good, gloomy but interesting. The acting was good, the

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-5607063921131401112009-04-18T23:46:00.003+01:002009-06-10T18:29:14.116+01:00Memories

Daylight began to forsake the red-room; it was past four o'clock, and the beclouded afternoon was tending to drear twilight. I heard the rain still beating continuously on the staircase window, and the wind howling in the grove behind the hall; I grew by degrees cold as a stone, and then my courage sank. My habitual mood of humiliation, self-doubt, forlorn depression, fell damp on the embers of

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-66986046920167868752009-04-17T18:12:00.003+01:002009-06-10T18:30:12.156+01:00Who has the answers?

"Miss Eyre, are you ill?" said Bessie. "What a dreadful noise! it went quite through me!" exclaimed Abbot. "Take me out! Let me go into the nursery!" was my cry. "What for? Are you hurt? Have you seen something?" again demanded Bessie. "Oh! I saw a light, and I thought a ghost would come." I had now got hold of Bessie's hand, and she did not snatch it from me. "She has screamed out on

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-83074288579653616462009-04-13T00:13:00.005+01:002009-06-10T18:30:55.998+01:00The Start

In five minutes more the cloud of bewilderment dissolved: I knew quite well that I was in my own bed, and that the red glare was the nursery fire. It was night: a candle burnt on the table; Bessie stood at the bed- foot with a basin in her hand, and a gentleman sat in a chair near my pillow, leaning over me. I felt an inexpressible relief, a soothing conviction of protection and security, when

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-47085898750091726582009-04-11T17:47:00.006+01:002009-06-10T18:31:42.710+01:00My Parents

Sarah came back with her; they both went to bed; they were whispering together for half-an-hour before they fell asleep. I caught scraps of their conversation, from which I was able only too distinctly to infer the main subject discussed. "Something passed her, all dressed in white, and vanished"--"A great black dog behind him"--"Three loud raps on the chamber door"--"A light in the churchyard

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-10060826932885045382009-04-09T01:16:00.005+01:002009-06-10T18:32:18.554+01:00Me and my paranoia

Bessie had now finished dusting and tidying the room, and having washed her hands, she opened a certain little drawer, full of splendid shreds of silk and satin, and began making a new bonnet for Georgiana's doll. Meantime she sang: her song was-- "In the days when we went gipsying, A long time ago." I had often heard the song before, and always with lively delight; for Bessie had a

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-21670261996319705782009-04-07T17:23:00.004+01:002009-06-10T18:33:09.827+01:00Another new drug

"Then she ought to look more cheerful. Come here, Miss Jane: your name is Jane, is it not?" "Yes, sir, Jane Eyre." "Well, you have been crying, Miss Jane Eyre; can you tell me what about? Have you any pain?" "No, sir." "Oh! I daresay she is crying because she could not go out with Missis in the carriage," interposed Bessie. "Surely not! why, she is too old for such pettishness." I thought

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-27529643874969529532009-04-04T18:26:00.004+01:002009-06-10T18:33:57.868+01:00Swirling

I saw Mr. Lloyd smile and frown at the same time. "Ghost! What, you are a baby after all! You are afraid of ghosts?" "Of Mr. Reed's ghost I am: he died in that room, and was laid out there. Neither Bessie nor any one else will go into it at night, if they can help it; and it was cruel to shut me up alone without a candle,--so cruel that I think I shall never forget it." "Nonsense! And is it

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-11069110922741579262009-04-02T02:30:00.004+01:002009-06-10T18:34:46.536+01:00Survival of the fittest

"None belonging to your father?" "I don't know. I asked Aunt Reed once, and she said possibly I might have some poor, low relations called Eyre, but she knew nothing about them." "If you had such, would you like to go to them?" I reflected. Poverty looks grim to grown people; still more so to children: they have not much idea of industrious, working, respectable poverty; they think of the

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-88769993302980186532009-04-01T02:42:00.003+01:002009-06-10T18:35:28.320+01:00

"Well, well! who knows what may happen?" said Mr. Lloyd, as he got up. "The child ought to have change of air and scene," he added, speaking to himself; "nerves not in a good state." Bessie now returned; at the same moment the carriage was heard rolling up the gravel-walk. "Is that your mistress, nurse?" asked Mr. Lloyd. "I should like to speak to her before I go." Bessie invited him to walk

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-70183509150897947552009-03-30T01:24:00.005+01:002009-06-10T18:36:24.165+01:00Easter holidays

CHAPTER IV From my discourse with Mr. Lloyd, and from the above reported conference between Bessie and Abbot, I gathered enough of hope to suffice as a motive for wishing to get well: a change seemed near,--I desired and waited it in silence. It tarried, however: days and weeks passed: I had regained my normal state of health, but no new allusion was made to the subject over which I brooded.

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-51332680719341555542009-03-28T01:25:00.003Z2009-06-10T18:37:08.502+01:00Thoughts

"What?" said Mrs. Reed under her breath: her usually cold composed grey eye became troubled with a look like fear; she took her hand from my arm, and gazed at me as if she really did not know whether I were child or fiend. I was now in for it. "My Uncle Reed is in heaven, and can see all you do and think; and so can papa and mama: they know how you shut me up all day long, and how you wish me

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-36375917245593646242009-03-26T21:02:00.003Z2009-06-10T18:39:06.760+01:00Moaning

Long did the hours seem while I waited the departure of the company, and listened for the sound of Bessie's step on the stairs: sometimes she would come up in the interval to seek her thimble or her scissors, or perhaps to bring me something by way of supper--a bun or a cheese-cake--then she would sit on the bed while I ate it, and when I had finished, she would tuck the clothes round me, and

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-78160855905410879352009-03-23T01:47:00.005Z2009-06-10T18:40:08.562+01:00dot dot dot

From this window were visible the porter's lodge and the carriage-road, and just as I had dissolved so much of the silver-white foliage veiling the panes as left room to look out, I saw the gates thrown open and a carriage roll through. I watched it ascending the drive with indifference; carriages often came to Gateshead, but none ever brought visitors in whom I was interested; it stopped in

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-78919753909278266132009-03-22T01:23:00.003Z2009-06-10T18:40:51.832+01:00Weight matters

Mrs. Reed occupied her usual seat by the fireside; she made a signal to me to approach; I did so, and she introduced me to the stony stranger with the words: "This is the little girl respecting whom I applied to you." _He_, for it was a man, turned his head slowly towards where I stood, and having examined me with the two inquisitive-looking grey eyes which twinkled under a pair of bushy brows,

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-20358761448648172032009-03-20T21:40:00.004Z2009-06-10T18:41:36.892+01:00Leave out all the rest

"What must you do to avoid it?" I deliberated a moment; my answer, when it did come, was objectionable: "I must keep in good health, and not die." "How can you keep in good health? Children younger than you die daily. I buried a little child of five years old only a day or two since,--a good little child, whose soul is now in heaven. It is to be feared the same could not be said of you were

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-38626141570956402402009-03-18T00:55:00.003Z2009-06-10T18:42:14.877+01:00St. Patrick's Day

I was about to propound a question, touching the manner in which that operation of changing my heart was to be performed, when Mrs. Reed interposed, telling me to sit down; she then proceeded to carry on the conversation herself. "Mr. Brocklehurst, I believe I intimated in the letter which I wrote to you three weeks ago, that this little girl has not quite the character and disposition I could

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-19919444249918224782009-03-15T22:22:00.004Z2009-06-10T18:43:11.266+01:00Another day, another week

"This is the state of things I quite approve," returned Mrs. Reed; "had I sought all England over, I could scarcely have found a system more exactly fitting a child like Jane Eyre. Consistency, my dear Mr. Brocklehurst; I advocate consistency in all things." "Consistency, madam, is the first of Christian duties; and it has been observed in every arrangement connected with the establishment of

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-67133951940718852992009-03-12T01:15:00.002Z2009-06-10T18:44:16.070+01:00

Sitting on a low stool, a few yards from her arm-chair, I examined her figure; I perused her features. In my hand I held the tract containing the sudden death of the Liar, to which narrative my attention had been pointed as to an appropriate warning. What had just passed; what Mrs. Reed had said concerning me to Mr. Brocklehurst; the whole tenor of their conversation, was recent, raw, and

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-51546237743764905952009-03-12T00:48:00.003Z2009-06-10T18:45:17.424+01:00A hard day

{How dare I, Mrs. Ried? How dare I? Because it is the truth: p30.jpg} Ere I had finished this reply, my soul began to expand, to exult, with the strangest sense of freedom, of triumph, I ever felt. It seemed as if an invisible bond had burst, and that I had struggled out into unhoped- for liberty. Not without cause was this sentiment: Mrs. Reed looked frightened; her work had slipped from

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-57094783927433804682009-03-08T00:10:00.003Z2009-06-10T18:46:08.530+01:00I can bake!

Something of vengeance I had tasted for the first time; as aromatic wine it seemed, on swallowing, warm and racy: its after-flavour, metallic and corroding, gave me a sensation as if I had been poisoned. Willingly would I now have gone and asked Mrs. Reed's pardon; but I knew, partly from experience and partly from instinct, that was the way to make her repulse me with double scorn, thereby

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-31345263009390756442009-03-04T23:10:00.003Z2009-06-10T18:48:20.458+01:00Struggling

"And so you're glad to leave me?" "Not at all, Bessie; indeed, just now I'm rather sorry." "Just now! and rather! How coolly my little lady says it! I dare say now if I were to ask you for a kiss you wouldn't give it me: you'd say you'd _rather_ not." "I'll kiss you and welcome: bend your head down." Bessie stooped; we mutually embraced, and I followed her into the house quite comforted.

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-78984297682654220392009-03-01T00:30:00.003Z2009-06-10T18:49:07.473+01:00Men and Sex

"O Miss Jane! don't say so!" "Good-bye to Gateshead!" cried I, as we passed through the hall and went out at the front door. The moon was set, and it was very dark; Bessie carried a lantern, whose light glanced on wet steps and gravel road sodden by a recent thaw. Raw and chill was the winter morning: my teeth chattered as I hastened down the drive. There was a light in the porter's lodge:

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-46179035762814737552009-02-25T22:40:00.004Z2009-06-10T18:49:45.763+01:00Therapy, psychiatrists and my bad moods

The afternoon came on wet and somewhat misty: as it waned into dusk, I began to feel that we were getting very far indeed from Gateshead: we ceased to pass through towns; the country changed; great grey hills heaved up round the horizon: as twilight deepened, we descended a valley, dark with wood, and long after night had overclouded the prospect, I heard a wild wind rushing amongst trees.

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-43275619416477764562009-02-23T20:31:00.004Z2009-06-10T18:50:34.317+01:00Just back from the gym

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-17080768128023491832009-02-20T01:08:00.003Z2009-06-10T18:51:20.412+01:00What am I supposed to do?

I explained to her that I had no parents. She inquired how long they had been dead: then how old I was, what was my name, whether I could read, write, and sew a little: then she touched my cheek gently with her forefinger, and saying, "She hoped I should be a good child," dismissed me along with Miss Miller. The lady I had left might be about twenty-nine; the one who went with me appeared some

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-42842002009176103062009-02-17T19:11:00.003Z2009-06-10T18:52:10.666+01:00All over the place

The night passed rapidly. I was too tired even to dream; I only once awoke to hear the wind rave in furious gusts, and the rain fall in torrents, and to be sensible that Miss Miller had taken her place by my side. When I again unclosed my eyes, a loud bell was ringing; the girls were up and dressing; day had not yet begun to dawn, and a rushlight or two burned in the room. I too rose

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-48825757684947720762009-02-15T01:48:00.004Z2009-06-10T18:52:57.038+01:00Regret

Ravenous, and now very faint, I devoured a spoonful or two of my portion without thinking of its taste; but the first edge of hunger blunted, I perceived I had got in hand a nauseous mess; burnt porridge is almost as bad as rotten potatoes; famine itself soon sickens over it. The spoons were moved slowly: I saw each girl taste her food and try to swallow it; but in most cases the effort was soon

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-7053499398821278402009-02-13T18:49:00.002Z2009-02-13T19:11:11.445ZThings I like (in no particular order)

1. Heat (at my uni house we can't afford it)2. Gilmore Girls - if you've never watched then do so because you're missing out!3. Sunny days3. The amazing chocolate and banana muffins I make (even if I do say so myself)4. Going to bars for cocktails with the girls5. Going out clubbing with friends or to the Limelight6. My cats especially when they've just been fed and they're so contented and cute7

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-23364954231278720852009-02-10T00:51:00.003Z2009-06-10T18:53:57.972+01:00Another new therapy!

What was the matter? I had heard no order given: I was puzzled. Ere I had gathered my wits, the classes were again seated: but as all eyes were now turned to one point, mine followed the general direction, and encountered the personage who had received me last night. She stood at the bottom of the long room, on the hearth; for there was a fire at each end; she surveyed the two rows of girls

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-24357550842383629382009-02-09T00:01:00.004Z2009-06-10T18:54:52.040+01:00Belonging

The bread and cheese was presently brought in and distributed, to the high delight and refreshment of the whole school. The order was now given "To the garden!" Each put on a coarse straw bonnet, with strings of coloured calico, and a cloak of grey frieze. I was similarly equipped, and, following the stream, I made my way into the open air. The garden was a wide inclosure, surrounded with

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-23824229265027477072009-02-06T19:46:00.004Z2009-06-10T18:55:43.563+01:00Housing

"Is your book interesting?" I had already formed the intention of asking her to lend it to me some day. "I like it," she answered, after a pause of a second or two, during which she examined me. "What is it about?" I continued. I hardly know where I found the hardihood thus to open a conversation with a stranger; the step was contrary to my nature and habits: but I think her occupation

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-35295850526269786212009-02-04T23:18:00.003Z2009-06-10T18:56:28.763+01:00Dilemmas

"Different benevolent-minded ladies and gentlemen in this neighbourhood and in London." "Who was Naomi Brocklehurst?" "The lady who built the new part of this house as that tablet records, and whose son overlooks and directs everything here." "Why?" "Because he is treasurer and manager of the establishment." "Then this house does not belong to that tall lady who wears a watch, and who said

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-82655455580664242642009-02-02T20:33:00.005Z2009-06-10T18:57:12.016+01:00I'm going through the motions

"But Miss Temple is the best--isn't she?" "Miss Temple is very good and very clever; she is above the rest, because she knows far more than they do." "Have you been long here?" "Two years." "Are you an orphan?" "My mother is dead." "Are you happy here?" "You ask rather too many questions. I have given you answers enough for the present: now I want to read." But at that moment the summons

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-34882550048903520202009-01-30T19:14:00.004Z2009-06-10T18:58:14.224+01:00Gossip

CHAPTER VI The next day commenced as before, getting up and dressing by rushlight; but this morning we were obliged to dispense with the ceremony of washing; the water in the pitchers was frozen. A change had taken place in the weather the preceding evening, and a keen north-east wind, whistling through the crevices of our bedroom windows all night long, had made us shiver in our beds, and

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-3330538958485647172009-01-28T02:49:00.006Z2009-06-10T18:58:57.762+01:00I don't know what's happening to me

"You dirty, disagreeable girl! you have never cleaned your nails this morning!" Burns made no answer: I wondered at her silence. "Why," thought I, "does she not explain that she could neither clean her nails nor wash her face, as the water was frozen?" My attention was now called off by Miss Smith desiring me to hold a skein of thread: while she was winding it, she talked to me from time to

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-18070557211298371572009-01-27T20:26:00.004Z2009-06-10T19:00:07.391+01:00Alone

Jumping over forms, and creeping under tables, I made my way to one of the fire-places; there, kneeling by the high wire fender, I found Burns, absorbed, silent, abstracted from all round her by the companionship of a book, which she read by the dim glare of the embers. "Is it still 'Rasselas'?" I asked, coming behind her. "Yes," she said, "and I have just finished it." And in five minutes

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-54667046356516445842009-01-27T09:41:00.004Z2009-06-10T19:00:53.039+01:00So not good…

I heard her with wonder: I could not comprehend this doctrine of endurance; and still less could I understand or sympathise with the forbearance she expressed for her chastiser. Still I felt that Helen Burns considered things by a light invisible to my eyes. I suspected she might be right and I wrong; but I would not ponder the matter deeply; like Felix, I put it off to a more convenient season

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-59186304840545990042009-01-25T21:30:00.005Z2009-06-10T19:01:42.338+01:00

Helen was talking to herself now: she had forgotten I could not very well understand her--that I was ignorant, or nearly so, of the subject she discussed. I recalled her to my level. "And when Miss Temple teaches you, do your thoughts wander then?" "No, certainly, not often; because Miss Temple has generally something to say which is newer than my own reflections; her language is singularly

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-80646944286701750982009-01-24T04:05:00.003Z2009-06-10T19:02:40.441+01:00I can feel it

"Then I should love Mrs. Reed, which I cannot do; I should bless her son John, which is impossible." In her turn, Helen Burns asked me to explain, and I proceeded forthwith to pour out, in my own way, the tale of my sufferings and resentments. Bitter and truculent when excited, I spoke as I felt, without reserve or softening. Helen heard me patiently to the end: I expected she would then make a

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-16753085146565958182009-01-24T00:33:00.003Z2009-06-10T19:03:26.492+01:00Stasis

CHAPTER VII My first quarter at Lowood seemed an age; and not the golden age either; it comprised an irksome struggle with difficulties in habituating myself to new rules and unwonted tasks. The fear of failure in these points harassed me worse than the physical hardships of my lot; though these were no trifles. During January, February, and part of March, the deep snows, and, after their

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-33225395018157558242009-01-23T22:15:00.002Z2009-01-23T22:16:59.133ZTracking

Anyone know anything about tracking your blog? I wanted to use google analytics to do it but my browser won't let me make any changes to the page source. Anyone have any ideas?

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-68959408406887669772009-01-23T01:23:00.003Z2009-06-10T19:04:39.835+01:00What is wrong with me?

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-61947238033475695852009-01-21T02:53:00.003Z2009-06-10T19:05:20.826+01:00The stupidity of me

How we longed for the light and heat of a blazing fire when we got back! But, to the little ones at least, this was denied: each hearth in the schoolroom was immediately surrounded by a double row of great girls, and behind them the younger children crouched in groups, wrapping their starved arms in their pinafores. A little solace came at tea-time, in the shape of a double ration of bread--a

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-3458493824389637912009-01-20T03:31:00.004Z2009-06-10T19:06:08.031+01:00Not happy!

He stood at Miss Temple's side; he was speaking low in her ear: I did not doubt he was making disclosures of my villainy; and I watched her eye with painful anxiety, expecting every moment to see its dark orb turn on me a glance of repugnance and contempt. I listened too; and as I happened to be seated quite at the top of the room, I caught most of what he said: its import relieved me from

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-17536927095137519922009-01-19T17:32:00.005Z2009-06-10T19:06:57.635+01:00Therapy and my not so wonderful CPN

Mr. Brocklehurst again paused--perhaps overcome by his feelings. Miss Temple had looked down when he first began to speak to her; but she now gazed straight before her, and her face, naturally pale as marble, appeared to be assuming also the coldness and fixity of that material; especially her mouth, closed as if it would have required a sculptor's chisel to open it, and her brow settled

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-68328066065391742682009-01-17T23:45:00.003Z2009-06-10T19:07:44.023+01:00Finally!

"Madam," he pursued, "I have a Master to serve whose kingdom is not of this world: my mission is to mortify in these girls the lusts of the flesh; to teach them to clothe themselves with shame-facedness and sobriety, not with braided hair and costly apparel; and each of the young persons before us has a string of hair twisted in plaits which vanity itself might have woven; these, I repeat, must

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-12215367513450444102009-01-12T17:52:00.005Z2009-06-10T19:08:23.138+01:00Hating my house

"Don't be afraid, Jane, I saw it was an accident; you shall not be punished." The kind whisper went to my heart like a dagger. "Another minute, and she will despise me for a hypocrite," thought I; and an impulse of fury against Reed, Brocklehurst, and Co. bounded in my pulses at the conviction. I was no Helen Burns. "Fetch that stool," said Mr. Brocklehurst, pointing to a very high one from

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-26172417402398090262009-01-10T17:09:00.003Z2009-01-10T17:11:12.545ZToo busy for posting

Unfortunately at the moment I have no time for blogging. The coming week is exam week and I don't have time to do much other than revise and sleep (and I'm sleeping way too much). To be honest, I don't know if I will pass all these exams, this term hasn't exactly been easy for me but I'm trying, I really am.

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-70722255010555948962009-01-06T17:54:00.005Z2009-06-10T19:09:13.661+01:00Flick the switch

Now came a pause of ten minutes, during which I, by this time in perfect possession of my wits, observed all the female Brocklehursts produce their pocket-handkerchiefs and apply them to their optics, while the elderly lady swayed herself to and fro, and the two younger ones whispered, "How shocking!" Mr. Brocklehurst resumed. "This I learned from her benefactress; from the pious and charitable

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-44776625809917929592009-01-04T02:11:00.003Z2009-06-10T19:10:13.595+01:00A bit of a moan

CHAPTER VIII Ere the half-hour ended, five o'clock struck; school was dismissed, and all were gone into the refectory to tea. I now ventured to descend: it was deep dusk; I retired into a corner and sat down on the floor. The spell by which I had been so far supported began to dissolve; reaction took place, and soon, so overwhelming was the grief that seized me, I sank prostrate with my face

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-11707678943934096782009-01-03T13:31:00.004Z2009-06-10T19:10:54.242+01:00Exams

"Well, Helen?" said I, putting my hand into hers: she chafed my fingers gently to warm them, and went on-- "If all the world hated you, and believed you wicked, while your own conscience approved you, and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends." "No; I know I should think well of myself; but that is not enough: if others don't love me I would rather die than live--I cannot

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-53370548540942004312009-01-01T14:33:00.003Z2009-06-10T19:11:37.801+01:00Happy New Year

"Is it all over?" she asked, looking down at my face. "Have you cried your grief away?" "I am afraid I never shall do that." "Why?" "Because I have been wrongly accused; and you, ma'am, and everybody else, will now think me wicked." "We shall think you what you prove yourself to be, my child. Continue to act as a good girl, and you will satisfy us." "Shall I, Miss Temple?" "You will,"

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-16109989457134046202008-12-31T00:49:00.004Z2009-06-10T19:12:16.942+01:00A similar strand

I had finished: Miss Temple regarded me a few minutes in silence; she then said-- "I know something of Mr. Lloyd; I shall write to him; if his reply agrees with your statement, you shall be publicly cleared from every imputation; to me, Jane, you are clear now." She kissed me, and still keeping me at her side (where I was well contented to stand, for I derived a child's pleasure from the

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-46779171375202963322008-12-29T23:34:00.004Z2009-06-10T19:13:00.039+01:00Continuation, and then some

Having invited Helen and me to approach the table, and placed before each of us a cup of tea with one delicious but thin morsel of toast, she got up, unlocked a drawer, and taking from it a parcel wrapped in paper, disclosed presently to our eyes a good-sized seed-cake. "I meant to give each of you some of this to take with you," said she, "but as there is so little toast, you must have it now,"

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-78861818733699561652008-12-28T17:44:00.003Z2009-06-10T19:13:48.777+01:00Uni work

"God bless you, my children!" Helen she held a little longer than me: she let her go more reluctantly; it was Helen her eye followed to the door; it was for her she a second time breathed a sad sigh; for her she wiped a tear from her cheek. On reaching the bedroom, we heard the voice of Miss Scatcherd: she was examining drawers; she had just pulled out Helen Burns's, and when we entered Helen

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-55276719537553831412008-12-26T19:11:00.004Z2009-06-10T19:14:51.657+01:00Not well at Christmas

Well has Solomon said--"Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith." I would not now have exchanged Lowood with all its privations for Gateshead and its daily luxuries. CHAPTER IX But the privations, or rather the hardships, of Lowood lessened. Spring drew on: she was indeed already come; the frosts of winter had ceased; its snows were melted, its

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-29856794683645160172008-12-24T00:04:00.006Z2009-06-10T19:15:42.034+01:00Happy Birthday Me

Have I not described a pleasant site for a dwelling, when I speak of it as bosomed in hill and wood, and rising from the verge of a stream? Assuredly, pleasant enough: but whether healthy or not is another question. That forest-dell, where Lowood lay, was the cradle of fog and fog-bred pestilence; which, quickening with the quickening spring, crept into the Orphan Asylum, breathed typhus through

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-32950561313920188082008-12-22T00:23:00.006Z2009-06-10T19:16:26.781+01:00Three days to Christmas

My favourite seat was a smooth and broad stone, rising white and dry from the very middle of the beck, and only to be got at by wading through the water; a feat I accomplished barefoot. The stone was just broad enough to accommodate, comfortably, another girl and me, at that time my chosen comrade--one Mary Ann Wilson; a shrewd, observant personage, whose society I took pleasure in, partly

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-58159956819411112592008-12-17T23:57:00.007Z2009-06-10T19:17:04.927+01:00Keeping going

"How sad to be lying now on a sick bed, and to be in danger of dying! This world is pleasant--it would be dreary to be called from it, and to have to go who knows where?" And then my mind made its first earnest effort to comprehend what had been infused into it concerning heaven and hell; and for the first time it recoiled, baffled; and for the first time glancing behind, on each side, and

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-11062283079814044732008-12-16T21:58:00.004Z2009-06-10T19:17:51.332+01:00I hate the rain

Having descended a staircase, traversed a portion of the house below, and succeeded in opening and shutting, without noise, two doors, I reached another flight of steps; these I mounted, and then just opposite to me was Miss Temple's room. A light shone through the keyhole and from under the door; a profound stillness pervaded the vicinity. Coming near, I found the door slightly ajar; probably

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-81554808655916923832008-12-15T00:54:00.004Z2009-06-10T19:18:40.065+01:00Biffy Clyro

Jane, your little feet are bare; lie down and cover yourself with my quilt." I did so: she put her arm over me, and I nestled close to her. After a long silence, she resumed, still whispering-- "I am very happy, Jane; and when you hear that I am dead, you must be sure and not grieve: there is nothing to grieve about. We all must die one day, and the illness which is removing me is not painful

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-29937199994954413742008-12-14T01:44:00.003Z2009-06-10T19:19:40.327+01:00

"Are you warm, darling?" "Yes." "Good-night, Jane." "Good-night, Helen." She kissed me, and I her, and we both soon slumbered. When I awoke it was day: an unusual movement roused me; I looked up; I was in somebody's arms; the nurse held me; she was carrying me through the passage back to the dormitory. I was not reprimanded for leaving my bed; people had something else to think about; no

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-7441726303636113092008-12-13T16:59:00.007Z2009-06-10T19:20:25.772+01:00Nobody takes me seriously

During these eight years my life was uniform: but not unhappy, because it was not inactive. I had the means of an excellent education placed within my reach; a fondness for some of my studies, and a desire to excel in all, together with a great delight in pleasing my teachers, especially such as I loved, urged me on: I availed myself fully of the advantages offered me. In time I rose to be the

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-12855679216594383302008-12-11T23:17:00.008Z2009-06-10T19:21:03.346+01:00The vicious cycle continues

I went to my window, opened it, and looked out. There were the two wings of the building; there was the garden; there were the skirts of Lowood; there was the hilly horizon. My eye passed all other objects to rest on those most remote, the blue peaks; it was those I longed to surmount; all within their boundary of rock and heath seemed prison-ground, exile limits. I traced the white road

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-30428971216667704782008-12-09T18:12:00.004Z2009-06-10T19:22:00.808+01:00Where has all the money gone?

"What do I want? A new place, in a new house, amongst new faces, under new circumstances: I want this because it is of no use wanting anything better. How do people do to get a new place? They apply to friends, I suppose: I have no friends. There are many others who have no friends, who must look about for themselves and be their own helpers; and what is their resource?" I could not tell:

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-63373293597457014972008-12-09T00:02:00.005Z2009-06-10T19:23:33.765+01:00A cheery intermission

The succeeding week seemed long: it came to an end at last, however, like all sublunary things, and once more, towards the close of a pleasant autumn day, I found myself afoot on the road to Lowton. A picturesque track it was, by the way; lying along the side of the beck and through the sweetest curves of the dale: but that day I thought more of the letters, that might or might not be awaiting

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-37192183125775356452008-12-07T23:39:00.005Z2009-06-10T19:24:26.092+01:00What to say

Here the socket of the candle dropped, and the wick went out. Next day new steps were to be taken; my plans could no longer be confined to my own breast; I must impart them in order to achieve their success. Having sought and obtained an audience of the superintendent during the noontide recreation, I told her I had a prospect of getting a new situation where the salary would be double what I

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-54052171735390335152008-12-06T23:04:00.004Z2009-06-10T19:25:18.818+01:00Another day goes by

"It's her, I am sure!--I could have told her anywhere!" cried the individual who stopped my progress and took my hand. I looked: I saw a woman attired like a well-dressed servant, matronly, yet still young; very good-looking, with black hair and eyes, and lively complexion. "Well, who is it?" she asked, in a voice and with a smile I half recognised; "you've not quite forgotten me, I think, Miss

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-46176964441957697762008-12-05T22:02:00.004Z2009-06-10T19:26:32.707+01:00Simply numb

"What does he look like?" "He is very tall: some people call him a fine-looking young man; but he has such thick lips." "And Mrs. Reed?" "Missis looks stout and well enough in the face, but I think she's not quite easy in her mind: Mr. John's conduct does not please her--he spends a deal of money." "Did she send you here, Bessie?" "No, indeed: but I have long wanted to see you, and when I

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-80846912462125030702008-12-02T20:15:00.004Z2009-06-10T19:27:31.702+01:00December

"Yes, Bessie, I can both read it and speak it." "And you can work on muslin and canvas?" "I can." "Oh, you are quite a lady, Miss Jane! I knew you would be: you will get on whether your relations notice you or not. There was something I wanted to ask you. Have you ever heard anything from your father's kinsfolk, the Eyres?" "Never in my life." "Well, you know Missis always said they were

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-9731701660800550712008-11-30T23:06:00.003Z2009-06-10T19:28:20.492+01:00Wedding Countdown!

CHAPTER XI A new chapter in a novel is something like a new scene in a play; and when I draw up the curtain this time, reader, you must fancy you see a room in the George Inn at Millcote, with such large figured papering on the walls as inn rooms have; such a carpet, such furniture, such ornaments on the mantelpiece, such prints, including a portrait of George the Third, and another of the

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-65020953830999085072008-11-30T01:48:00.003Z2009-06-10T19:29:06.185+01:00Renovation

"This will be your luggage, I suppose?" said the man rather abruptly when he saw me, pointing to my trunk in the passage. "Yes." He hoisted it on to the vehicle, which was a sort of car, and then I got in; before he shut me up, I asked him how far it was to Thornfield. "A matter of six miles." "How long shall we be before we get there?" "Happen an hour and a half." He fastened the car door,

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-27786645157526795202008-11-28T21:57:00.005Z2009-06-10T19:30:00.025+01:00Conundrum

"Will you walk this way, ma'am?" said the girl; and I followed her across a square hall with high doors all round: she ushered me into a room whose double illumination of fire and candle at first dazzled me, contrasting as it did with the darkness to which my eyes had been for two hours inured; when I could see, however, a cosy and agreeable picture presented itself to my view. A snug small room

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-13209227799051040502008-11-26T22:47:00.003Z2009-06-10T19:30:53.684+01:00My CPN

"Shall I have the pleasure of seeing Miss Fairfax to-night?" I asked, when I had partaken of what she offered me. "What did you say, my dear? I am a little deaf," returned the good lady, approaching her ear to my mouth. I repeated the question more distinctly. "Miss Fairfax? Oh, you mean Miss Varens! Varens is the name of your future pupil." "Indeed! Then she is not your daughter?" "No,-

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-19551937863272452632008-11-25T19:53:00.006Z2009-06-10T19:31:42.828+01:00It's really really cold!

I thanked her for her considerate choice, and as I really felt fatigued with my long journey, expressed my readiness to retire. She took her candle, and I followed her from the room. First she went to see if the hall-door was fastened; having taken the key from the lock, she led the way upstairs. The steps and banisters were of oak; the staircase window was high and latticed; both it and the

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-64837700284460787142008-11-24T23:12:00.004Z2009-06-10T19:32:43.872+01:00Lying to your friends

Traversing the long and matted gallery, I descended the slippery steps of oak; then I gained the hall: I halted there a minute; I looked at some pictures on the walls (one, I remember, represented a grim man in a cuirass, and one a lady with powdered hair and a pearl necklace), at a bronze lamp pendent from the ceiling, at a great clock whose case was of oak curiously carved, and ebon black with

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-55736380673816290802008-11-23T22:33:00.005Z2009-06-10T19:33:52.583+01:00Quick Update

Of course I did not--I had never heard of him before; but the old lady seemed to regard his existence as a universally understood fact, with which everybody must be acquainted by instinct. "I thought," I continued, "Thornfield belonged to you." "To me? Bless you, child; what an idea! To me! I am only the housekeeper--the manager. To be sure I am distantly related to the Rochesters by the

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-53350759022334722262008-11-21T22:12:00.003Z2009-06-10T19:34:41.172+01:00My new job (and other various things)

ortunately I had had the advantage of being taught French by a French lady; and as I had always made a point of conversing with Madame Pierrot as often as I could, and had besides, during the last seven years, learnt a portion of French by heart daily--applying myself to take pains with my accent, and imitating as closely as possible the pronunciation of my teacher, I had acquired a certain

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-5656830301955890992008-11-18T21:47:00.004Z2009-06-10T19:35:02.810+01:00And it all comes tumbling down…

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-79152278142784662362008-11-16T19:33:00.004Z2009-06-10T19:38:30.910+01:00Friends

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-82336094101127030302008-11-14T23:15:00.003Z2009-06-10T19:38:44.821+01:00This and that

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-25048524893639415482008-11-13T22:10:00.004Z2009-06-10T19:38:57.454+01:00Procrastination

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-52723433421293106702008-11-08T21:16:00.004Z2009-06-10T19:39:07.741+01:00Writing

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-47589334836701499852008-11-04T19:12:00.004Z2009-06-10T19:39:20.916+01:00A night to remember

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-18021966291551497742008-10-30T17:21:00.002Z2009-06-10T19:39:35.749+01:00Hooray

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-81551668157783700692008-10-30T15:02:00.004Z2009-06-10T19:39:46.985+01:00A brief moment

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410702794654820795.post-89297905150096652272008-10-22T18:09:00.008+01:002009-06-10T19:40:05.764+01:00Ennio Morricone and my current weight!

Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00076502587408301636noreply@blogger.com0