All the room darkened and my heart again sank; inexpressible sadness weighed it down
Who are you, Miss Snowe?”…”Who am I indeed? Perhaps a personage in disguise.
I would always rather be happy than dignified.
Happiness quite unshared can scarcely be called happiness; it has no taste.
I am no bird, no net ensnares me.
I mentally shake hands with you for your answer, despite its inaccuracy.” Mr. Rochester
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