Anne Brontë

The more you loved your God the more deep and pure and true would be your love to me.

At your time of life, it's love that rules the roast: at mine, it's solid, serviceable gold.

Chess-players are so unsociable, they are no company for any but themselves.

God have mercy on his miserable soul! and make him see and feel his guilt — I ask no other vengeance! If he could but fully know and truly feel my wrongs I should be well avenged, and I could freely pardon all.

Intimate acquaintance must precede real friendship.

If you had no higher motive than the approval of your fellow mortal, it would do you little good.

Adoration isn’t love. I adore Annabella, but I don’t love her; and I love thee, Milicent, but I don’t adore thee.

Since I love him so much, I can easily forgive him for loving himself.

Revenge! No — what good would that do? — it would make him no better, and me no happier.

What can't be cured must be endured.

Friends as we are, we would willingly keep your failings to ourselves — even from ourselves if we could, unless by knowing them we could deliver you from them.

You may think it all very fine, Mr. Huntingdon, to amuse yourself with rousing my jealousy; but take care you don't rouse my hate instead. And when you have once extinguished my love, you will find it no easy matter to kindle it again.