Move on

“It is always the way of events in this life…no sooner have you got settled in a pleasant resting-place, than a voice calls out to you to rise and move on, for the hour of repose is expired."

Jane Eyre, de Charlotte Bronte

Fado

“It is weak and silly to say you cannot bear what it is your fate to be required to bear.”

Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte

Brassai, fortune teller's hands, 1933

Sleep brings no joy to me

Isabelle Hupert em "Les Soeurs Brontes", de André Téchiné, 1979

Sleep brings no joy to me,
Remembrance never dies;
My soul is given to misery
And lives in sighs.

Sleep brings no rest to me;
The shadows of the dead
My waking eyes may never see
Surround my bed.

Sleep brings no hope to me;
In sounder sleep they come.
And with their doleful imagery
Deepen the gloom

Sleep brings no strength to me,
No power renewed to brave:
I only sail a wilder sea,
A darker wave.

Sleep brings no friend to me
To soothe and aid to bear;
They all gaze, oh, how scornfully,
And I despair.

Sleep brings no wish to knit
My harassed heart beneath:
My only wish is to forget
In the sleep of death.


Emily Bronte - Sleep Brings No Joy To Me ("The Complete Poems")

Capricho

But smiles and tears are so alike with me, they are neither of them confined to any particular feelings: I often cry when I am happy, and smile when I am sad.

Anne Brontë, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall

Annemarie Heinrich, "Caprices, Anita Grimm", 1936

Parting

There’s no use in weeping,
Though we are condemned to part:
There’s such a thing as keeping
A remembrance in one’s heart:

There’s such a thing as dwelling
On the thought ourselves have nurs’d,
And with scorn and courage telling
The world to do its worst.

Charlotte Bronte

J'attendrai le suivant

“To feel my hand so kindly prest,
To know myself beloved at last,
To think my heart has found a rest,
My life of solitude is past!

But then to wake and find it flown,
The dream of happiness destroyed,
To find myself unloved, alone,
What tongue can speak the dreary void?”


Anne Bronte

"Leave the heart that now I bear"

Riches I hold in light esteem
And Love I laugh to scorn
And lust of Fame was but a dream
That vanished with the morn-

And if I pray, the only prayer
That moves my lips for me
Is-“Leave the heart that now I bear
And give me liberty.”

Yes, as my swift days near their goal
‘Tis all that I implore
Through life and death, a chainless soul
With courage to endure!


Emily Bronte



Les soeurs Brontë, de André Téchiné, 1979

Of Love and Friendship

Love is like the wild rose-briar,
Friendship like the holly-tree—
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms
But which will bloom most constantly?

The wild-rose briar is sweet in the spring,
Its summer blossoms scent the air;
Yet wait till winter comes again
And who will call the wild-briar fair?

Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now
And deck thee with the holly’s sheen,
That when December blights thy brow
He may still leave thy garland green.


Emily Bronte



Les soeurs Brontë, de André Téchiné, 1979

À Espera

Auguste Toulmouche, À Espera, 1867

“Until at last, I gave up hoping, for even my heart acknowledged it was all in vain.”

Agnes Grey, Anne Bronte

Mad Hatter: Brontë Sisters

As musas literárias da minha adolescência...

No Satisfaction

“It is always the way of events in this life…no sooner have you got settled in a pleasant resting-place, than a voice calls out to you to rise and move on, for the hour of repose is expired.”

Jane Eyre de Charlotte Bronte



Devo - I can't get no satisfaction

Jane Eyre

"First vanity, and now insurrection."



Jane Eyre, de Robert Stevenson, 1944

Evening Solace

Evening Solace

by Charlotte Bronte

The Human heart has hidden treasures,
In secret kept, in silence sealed,
The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,
Whose charms were broken if revealed.
And days may pass in gay confusion,
And nights in rosy riot fly,
While, lost in Fame's or Wealth's illusion,
The memory of the Past may die.


Nouvelle Vague - In a Manner of Speaking

Spellbound

The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me
And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow.
And the storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below;
But nothing dear can move me;
I will not, cannot go.

Emily Jane Bronte



The Innocents, de Jack Clayton, 1961