u/UltravioletGambit

"Add line breaks
and anything can be a poem."

But when a line breaks,
a poem emerges
free,
untethered,
unbothered,
unlike
its poet.

Add line breaks
and anything can be a poem.

But when a line breaks,
a poem emerges
free,
untethered,
unbothered,
unlike
its poet.

[Disclaimer: These are actually some of my favourite moments in the book because they were unexpectedly funny and I listed them for light-hearted fun, not to criticize the book in any way.]

---

Why would you call a child ugly?!

> Bessie: Poor Miss Jane is to be pitied, too, Abbot.
Miss Abbot: Yes, if she were a nice, pretty child, one might compassionate her forlornness; but one really cannot care for such a little toad as that.

> Bessie: You are genteel enough; you look like a lady, and it is as much as ever I expected of you. You were no beauty as a child.

---

I think Jane learnt from an early age to call herself ugly before anyone else does.

> Jane: I ever wished to look as well as I could, and to please as much as my want of beauty would permit. I sometimes regretted that I was not handsomer.

> Jane: Don’t address me as if I were a beauty; I am your plain, Quakerish governess.

---

The sixth love language: Calling your lover ugly or rude

> Jane: Had he been a handsome, heroic-looking young gentleman, I should not have dared to stand thus questioning him against his will.

> Jane: I recognized his decisive nose, more remarkable for character than beauty, his full nostrils, denoting, I thought, choler; by his grim mouth, chin, and jaw-yes, all three were very grim, and no mistake. [...] I suppose it was a good figure in the athletic sense of the term, broad-chested and thin- flanked, though neither tall nor graceful.

> Rochester: You examine me, Miss Eyre, do you think me handsome?
Jane: No, sir.

> Rochester: You look very much puzzled, Miss Eyre; and though you are not pretty any more than I am handsome, yet a puzzled air becomes you.

> Jane: I am sure most people would have thought him an ugly man; yet there was so much unconscious pride in his port.

> Rochester: In time, I think you will learn to be natural with me, as I find it impossible to be conventional with you; and then your looks and movements will have more vivacity and variety than they dare offer now.

> Jane: And was Mr. Rochester now ugly in my eyes? No, reader. Gratitude, and many associations, all pleasurable and genial, made his face the object I best liked to see.

> Jane: My master’s colorless, olive face, square, massive brow, broad and jetty eyebrows, deep eyes, strong features, firm, grim mouth—all energy, decision, will—were not beautiful, according to rule, but they were more than beautiful to me.

> Jane: I could imagine that most observers would call them attractive, handsome, imposing; while they would pronounce Mr. Rochester at once harsh-featured and melancholy-looking.

> Jane: I told her he was rather an ugly man, but quite a gentleman

> Rochester: Tell me now, fairy as you are, can't you give me a charm, or a philter, or something of that sort, to make me a handsome man?
Jane: It would be past the power of magic, sir!

> Jane: And if I had loved him less I should have thought his accent and look of exultation savage.

> Jane: I don’t call you handsome, sir, though I love you most dearly.

> Jane: Your forehead resembles, what, in some very astonishing poetry, I once saw styled, 'a blue-piled thunder-loft.'

> Rochester: You are less than civil now; and I like rudeness a great deal better than flattery.

> Rochester: For how long, Jane? For a few minutes, while you smooth your hair, which is somewhat dishevelled, and bathe your face, which looks feverish?

---

You can't burt a man by calling him ugly if he beats you to it

> Rochester: And if God had gifted me with some beauty, and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you.

> Rochester towards Celine: He thought himself her idol, ugly as he was.

---

Well, you don't need love to call someone ugly

> Mrs Fairfax: Mr. Rochester is so talented and so lively in society, that I believe he is a general favorite; the ladies are very fond of him, though you would not think his appearance calculated to recommend him particularly in their eyes; but I suppose his acquirements and abilities, perhaps his wealth and good blood, make amends for any little fault of look.

> Georgiana about a portrait of Rochester: The other drawings pleased her much, but she called that an "ugly man".

> Jane about Bertha: Shall I tell you of what it reminded me? - Of the foul German spectre, the Vampyre.

> Rochester about Bertha: To tell me that I had already a wife is empty mockery; you know now that I had but a hideous demon.

> Diana/Mary about Jane: She has a peculiar face; fleshless and haggard as it is, I rather like it; and when in good health and animated, I can fancy her physiognomy would be agreeable.

> St. John about Jane: She looks sensible, but not at all handsome.
Diana: She is so ill, St. John.
St. John: Ill or well, she would always be plain. The grace and harmony of beauty are quite wanting in those features.

> Jane: Miss Oliver said I was like Mr. Rivers (only, certainly, she allowed, "not one-tenth so handsome; though I was a nice, neat little soul enough; but he was an angel").

> St. John to Jane: You are formed for labor, not for love. A missionary’s wife you must—shall be. You shall be mine

> An acquaintance about Rochester: He was not so very handsome; but he had a courage and a will of his own.

---

And perhaps the most iconic lines of the book:

> Rochester: Am I hideous, Jane?
Jane: Very, sir; you always were, you know.

When I moved houses,

I packed away my most precious items.

I used layers and layers of bubble wrap,

and sealed them away in a box.

The move was a long time ago

but I haven't unpacked them yet.

I tell myself that I am waiting

for the right day to find the right shelf.

So I lie in wait, missing my things,

and they lie in a box, unenjoyed,

just like the love in my lonesome heart.