Debilu Rurintojas từ Bonnetan, France

mykolasv

11/05/2024

Dữ liệu người dùng, đánh giá và đề xuất cho sách

Debilu Rurintojas Sách lại (10)

2018-07-17 10:30

Uy Lực Côn Trùng: Lực Sĩ Bọ Hung Thư viện Sách hướng dẫn

Sách được viết bởi Bởi:

Charlotte Bronte is an awesome writer. I first read this book in 6th grade and really loved it. When my sister was finally in 6th grade, i let her read it. She ruined it. "Mr. rochester is like 40 years old!" and then "Ah Jane! Jane! Yes Sir, I love you sir." (in a melodramatic creepy way and then a quiet sturdy way) From then on, the romance never felt the same. LOVE THE PROSE OF VICTORIAN LIT. (it's victorian right?) So wordy, and meaty, and the story isn't quickly told even if you quickly read! "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 gradually into petrified severity." (53 - what an awesome SINGLE sentence!) "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. [oh Helen, I didn't know you were older than Jane, and I didn't know you were 13. I remember you though, and it's good to read you again:] "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 bear to be solitary and hated, Helen. Look here; to gain some real affection from you, or Miss Temple, or any other whom I truly love, I would willingly submit to have the bone of my arm broken, or to let a bull toss me, or to stand behind a kicking horse, and let it dash its hoof at my chest-" "Hush Jane! you think too much of the love of human beings; you are too impulsive, too vehement; the sovereign hand that created your frame, and put life into it, has provided you with other resources than your feeble self, or than creatures feeble as you...Why, then, should we ever sink overwhelmed with distress, when life is so soon over, and death is so certain an entrance to happiness - to glory?" (59) "The refreshing meal, the brilliant fire, the presence and kindness of her beloved instructress, or, perhaps, more than all these, something in her own unique mind, had roused her powers within her. They woke, they kindled: first, they glowed in the bright tint of her cheek, which till this hour I had never seen but pale and bloodless; then they shone in the liquid lustre of her eyes, which had suddenly acquired a beauty more singular than that of Miss Temple's - a beauty neither of fine colour nor long eyelash, nor pencilled brow, but of meaning, of movement, of radiance. Then her soul sat on her lips, and language flowed, from what source I cannot tell. Has a girl of fourteen a heart large enough, vigorous enough, to hold the swelling spring of pure, full, fervid eloquence?" (62) "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 because she was witty and original, and partly because she had a manner which set me at ease... She had a turn for narrative, I for analysis; she liked to inform, I to question; so we got on swimmingly together, deriving much entertainment, if not much improvement, from our mutual intercourse." (66 - heehee) "I see," he said, "the mountain will never be brought to Mahomet, so all you can do is to aid Mahomet to go to the mountain" (100 - what a way to meet Mr. Rochester) "No wonder you have rather the look of another world. I marvelled where you had got that sort of face. When you came on me in Hay Lane last night, I thought unaccountably of fairy tales, and had half a mind to demand whether you had bewitched my horse: I'm not sure yet." (106) "I am sure, sir, I should never mistake informality for insolence: one I rather like, the other nothing free-born would submit to, even for a salary." (118) "And was Mr. Rochester now ugly in my eyes? No, reader: gratitude, and many associations, all pleasurable and genial, made his face the object I best liked to see; his presence in a room was more cheering than the brightest fire. Yet I had not forgotten his faults; in deed, I could not, for he brought them frequently before me. He was proud, sardonic, harsh to inferiority of every description: in my secret soul I knew that his great kindness to me was balanced by unjust severity to many others." (128) "It little mattered whether my curiosity irritated him; I knew the pleasure of vexing and soothing him by turns; it was one I chiefly delighted in, and a sure instinct always prevented me from going too far; beyond the verge of provocation I never ventured; on the extreme brink I liked well to try my skill. Retaining every minute form of respect, every propriety of my station, I could still meet him in argument without fear or uneasy restraint; this suited both him and me." (137) "I waited till the last deep and full vibration had expired - till the tide of talk, checked an instant, had resumed its flow; I then quitted my sheltered corner and made my exit by the side-door, which was fortunately near. Thence a narrow passage led into the hall: in crossing it, I perceived my sandal was loose; I stopped to tie it, kneeling down for that purpose on the mat at the foot of the staircase. I heard the dining-room door unclose; a gentleman came out; rising hastily, I stood face to face with him: it was Mr. Rochester." (158) "The glamour of inexperience is over your eyes...and you see it through a charmed medium: you cannot discern that the gilding is slime and the silk draperies cobwebs; that tee marble is sordid slate, and the polished woods mere refuse chips and scaly bark. Now here' (he pointed to the leafy enclosure we had entered) 'all is real, sweet, and pure." (189) The dialogue on page 198 when she's leaving for Gateshead is angst; pure, suffocating, lovely, Victorian angst. I'll leave but a few lines. "And how do people perform the ceremony of parting, Jane? Teach me; I'm not quite up to it." "They say, Farewell, or any other form they prefer." "Then say it." "Farewell, Mr. Rchester, for the present." "What must I say?" "The same, if you like, sir." "Farewell, Miss Eyre, for the present; is that all?" "Yes?" "It seems stingy, to my notions, and dry, and unfriendly. I should like something else: a little addition to the rite. If one shook hands, for instance; but no - that would not content me either. So you'll do no more than say Farewell, Jane?" "It is enough, sir: as much good-will may be conveyed in one hearty word as in many." "Very likely; but it is blank and cool - Farewell." (198) "Because," he said, "I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you - especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land came broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communication will be snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you - you'd forget me." (222- AHHHH!) "Do you doubt me, Jane?" "Entirely." "You have no faith in me?" "Not a whit." "Am I a liar in your eyes?" he asked passionately. "Little skeptic, you shall be convinced..." (224) "While arranging my hair, I looked at my face in the glass, and felt it was no longer plain: there was hope in its aspect and life in its colour; and my eyes seemed as if they had beheld the fount of fruition, and borrowed beams from the lustrous ripple. I had often been unwilling to look at my master, because I feared he could not be pleased at my look; but I was sure I might lift my face to his now, and not cool his affection by its expression. I took a plain but clean and light summer dress from my drawer and put it on: it seemed no attired had ever so well become me, because none had I ever worn in so blissful a mood." (226) "Jane, you please me, and you master me - you seem to submit, and I like the sense of pliancy you impart; and while I am twining the soft, silken skein round my finger, it sends a thrill up my arm to my heart. I am influenced - conquered; and the influence is sweeter than I can express; and the conquest I undergo has a witchery beyond any triumph I can win." (229 - definitely a girl wrote this book HA) "I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself. I will keep the law given by God; sanctioned by man. I will hold to the principles received by me when I was sane, and not mad - as I am now. Laws and principles are not for the times when there is no temptation: they are for such moments as this, when body and soul rise in mutiny against their rigour; stringent are they; inviolate they shall be. If at my individual convenience I might break them, what would be their worth? They have a worth - so I have always believed; and if I cannot believe it now, it is because I am insane - quite insane: with my veins running fire, and my heart beating faster than I count it throbs. Preconceived opinions, foregone determinations, are all I have at this hour to stand by: there I plant my foot." (280 - love how the child Jane who shrieked at her aunt has grown into this self-contained woman) "Consider that eye: consider the resolute, wild, free thing looking out of it, defying me, with more than courage - with a stern triumph. Whatever I do with its cage, I cannot get at it - the savage, beautiful creature! If I tear, if I rend the slight prison, my outrage will only let the captive loose. Conqueror I might be of the house; but the inmate would escape to heaven before I could call myself possessor of its clay dwelling-place. And it is you, spirit - with will and energy, and virtue and purity - that I want: not alone your brittle frame." (281) "May you never appeal to Heaven in prayers so hopeless and so agonised as in that hour left my lips; for never may you, like me, dread to be the instrument of evil to what you wholly love." (284 - sigh) "I am not ambitious." He started at the word "ambitious." He repeated, "No. What made you think of ambition? Who is ambitious? I know I am: but how did you find it out?" "I was speaking of myself." "Well, if you are not ambitious you are - " he paused. "What?" "I was going to say, impassioned: bit perhaps you would have misunderstood the word, and been displeased. I mean, that human affections and sympathies have a most powerful hold on you." (315) "Now, I did not like this, reader. St. John was a good man; but I began to feel he had spoken truth of himself when he said he was hard and cold. The humanities and amenities of life had no attraction for him - its peaceful enjoyments no charm. Literally, he lived only to aspire - after what was good and great, certainly; but still he would never rest, nor approve of others resting around him." (347) "I scorn your idea of love," I could not help saying, as I rose up and stood before him, leaning my back against the rock. "I scorn the counterfeit sentiment you offer: yes, St. John, and I scorn you when you offer it." (362 - ooh shut down! but oh so eloquently!) "My Master," he says, "has forewarned me. Daily He announces more distinctly, - "Surely I come quickly!" and hourly I more eagerly respond, "Amen; even so come, Lord Jesus!" " (401 - what a curious way to end this novel!) AND THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER <3

Người đọc Debilu Rurintojas từ Bonnetan, France

Người dùng coi những cuốn sách này là thú vị nhất trong năm 2017-2018, ban biên tập của cổng thông tin "Thư viện Sách hướng dẫn" khuyến cáo rằng tất cả các độc giả sẽ làm quen với văn học này.