#what doom to be beheld: you sing when you should tremble!!!!!!!

[geryone]

Wound is the Origin of Wonder, Maya C. Popa

[whisperthatruns]

Wound Is the Origin of Wonder

Fiction is the house of many windows, James said, and I sat at each one peering at a world that trembled---or was that me instead, quivering in the face of all I made by looking, unable to amend the plot or bend the hand. Like all falls, we came at ours by pleasure, all languages seconded, learned by constraint--- no way to say look and away and mean un-lone me. Like gods, we made our kingdom hungry. Our appetites' agreement we called love, though it was nearer the mirror than mercy. Sweet solstice, soul cousin, Vita Nuova's Beatrice---do you hear our onceness beating at the door? How the past outlasts on either end, though we'd like to burn out in oracular blindness. What doom to be beheld: you sing when you should tremble. Will you leave me my wondering; will it be as when snow falls heavy on trees, and thou art felled?

Maya C. Popa, Wound Is the Origin of Wonder (W. W. Norton & Company, 2023)

[ohlooknothing]

a comprehensive list of my favorite quotes from jane eyre

I was conscious that a moment’s mutiny had already rendered me liable to strange penalties, and, like any other rebel slave, I felt resolved, in my desperation, to go to all lengths. (pg. 15)

“You are passionate, Jane, that you must allow.” (pg. 45)

From where I stood I could see the title -- it was ‘Rasselas’ -- a name that struck me as strange, and consequently attractive. (pg. 59)

It is weak and silly to say you cannot bear what it is your fate is to be required to bear. (pg. 66)

Her [Helen’s] grave is in Brocklehurst Churchyard: for fifteen years after her death it was only covered by a grassy mound; but now a gray marble tablet marks the spot, inscribed with her name, and the word ‘Resurgam.’ (pg. 98) Implies Jane paid for the new headstone.

I tired of the routine of eight years in one afternoon. I desired liberty; for liberty I gasped; for liberty I uttered a prayer; it seemed scattered on the wind then faintly blowing. (pg. 102)

To open my inward ear to a tale that was never ended. (pg. 129)

“I find it impossible to be conventional with you.” (pg. 162)

“I know what sort of a mind I have placed in communication with my own.” (pg.168)

His presence in a room was more cheering than the brightest fire. (pg. 172)

“I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you: their expression and smile did not strike delight to my very inmost heart so for nothing!” (pg. 177)

“Good-night, my --” (pg. 210)

I was forgetting all his faults, for which I had once kept a sharp look-out. (pg. 218)

“I need not sell my soul to buy bliss. I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld, or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give.” (pg. 233)

‘How long is he going to stand with his back against that door?’ I asked myself. (pg. 261)

Representing any scene that happened momentarily to shape itself in the ever-shifting kaleidoscope of imagination. (pg. 268)

“I am passionate, but not vindictive.” (pg. 276)

“Tell me now, fairy as you are -- can’t you give me a charm, or a philter, or something of that sort, to make me a handsome man?” “It would be past the power of magic, sir.” (pg. 283)

“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will.” (pg. 293)

“There is no road to the moon: it is all air; and neither you nor she can fly.” (pg. 308)

“I suppose, then, your heart has been weeping blood?” (pg. 344)

“Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own.” (pg. 347)

The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself. (pg. 365)

My rest might have been blissful enough only a sad heart broke it. It plained of its gaping wounds, its inward bleeding, its riven chords. It trembled for Mr Rochester and his doom; it bemoaned him with bitter pity; it demanded him with ceaseless longing; and, impotent as a bird with both wings broken, it still quivered its shattered pinions in vain attempts to seek him. (pg. 373)

I soon forgot storm in music. (pg. 435)

“I shall see it again.... In a more remote hour -- when another slumber overcomes me, on the shore of a darker stream!” (pg. 463)

“My skylark! I heard one of your kind an hour ago, singing high over the wood; but its song had no music for me, any more over the wood; but its song had no music for me, any more than the rising sun had rays. All the melody on earth is concentrated in my Jane’s tongue to my ear: all the sunshine I can feel is in her presence.” (pg. 506)

Reader, I married him. (pg. 517)

We talk, I believe, all day long: to talk to each other is but a more animated and an audible thinking. (pg. 519)