Your Station Is In My Heart, And

Am I Hideous, Jane? Very, Sir: You Always Were, You Know.

Nature Seemed To Me Benign And Good; I Thought She Loved Me, Outcast As I Was; And I, Who From Man Could Anticipate Only Mistrust, Rejection, Insult, Clung To Her With Filial Fondness. To-night At Least, I Would Be Her Guest-as I Was Her Child; My Mother Would Lodge Me Without Money And Without Price.

I Am Not Deceitful: If I Were, I Should Say I Loved You; But I Declare I Do Not Love You: I Dislike You The Worst Of Anybody In The World.

Prodigious Was The Amount Of Life I Lived That Morning.

I Must, Then, Repeat Continually That We Are Forever Sundered - And Yet, While I Breathe And Think, I Must Love Him.' - Jane Eyre