1 If they did not love me, in fact, as little did I love them.
2 God is my father; God is my friend: I love Him; I believe He loves me.
3 There was nothing to cool or banish love in these circumstances, though much to create despair.
4 It is as natural as that I should love those who show me affection, or submit to punishment when I feel it is deserved.
5 I believe it was a lovely summer morning: I know my shoes, which I had put on when I left the house, were soon wet with dew.
6 I could not be certain of the reality till I had seen Mr. Rochester again, and heard him renew his words of love and promise.
7 You think I have no feelings, and that I can do without one bit of love or kindness; but I cannot live so: and you have no pity.
8 He must love such a handsome, noble, witty, accomplished lady; and probably she loves him, or, if not his person, at least his purse.
9 It looked a lovely face enough, and when compared with the real head in chalk, the contrast was as great as self-control could desire.
10 I sought a seat for him in a hidden and lovely spot, a dry stump of a tree; nor did I refuse to let him, when seated, place me on his knee.
11 Many a time, as a little child, I should have been glad to love you if you would have let me; and I long earnestly to be reconciled to you now: kiss me, aunt.
12 He is not of your order: keep to your caste, and be too self-respecting to lavish the love of the whole heart, soul, and strength, where such a gift is not wanted and would be despised.
13 I saw he was going to marry her, for family, perhaps political reasons, because her rank and connections suited him; I felt he had not given her his love, and that her qualifications were ill adapted to win from him that treasure.
14 To this crib I always took my doll; human beings must love something, and, in the dearth of worthier objects of affection, I contrived to find a pleasure in loving and cherishing a faded graven image, shabby as a miniature scarecrow.
15 I think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.
16 The subject seemed strangely chosen for an infant singer; but I suppose the point of the exhibition lay in hearing the notes of love and jealousy warbled with the lisp of childhood; and in very bad taste that point was: at least I thought so.
17 They were fresh now as a succession of April showers and gleams, followed by a lovely spring morning, could make them: the sun was just entering the dappled east, and his light illumined the wreathed and dewy orchard trees and shone down the quiet walks under them.
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