To women who please me only by their faces, I am the very devil when I find out they have neither souls nor hearts-when they open to me a perspective of flatness, triviality, and perhaps imbecility, coarseness, and ill-temper: but to the clear eye and eloquent tongue, to the soul made of fire, and the character that bends but does not break-at once supple and stable, tractable and consistent-I am ever tender and true.
( Charlotte Brontë )
[ Jane Eyre ]
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