Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Villette by Charlotte Bronte

...it was a scene of feeling too brimful...

...to be in a trance of content.

...to sever the thread of an existence so long fretted by affliction.

...(the room did not boast a sofa).

...they shook my philosophy more than did the night...

Black was the river as a torrent of ink...

...yet amidst all these deadening influences, my fancy budded fresh...

...they were very plebeian in soul.

...I found myself an object of study: she held me under her eye...

...polishing my faculties and whetting them to a keen edge with constant use.

...on the edge of a moral volcano that rumbled under my feet...

...I was sitting on the hidden seat reclaimed from fungi and mould...

..the tempest took hold of me with tyranny: I was roughly roused and obliged to live.

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