Jane eyre was 19 while working for mr Rochester, she should have been experiencing crippling mental illness and a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs
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when kafka said ‘you wouldn’t believe the kind of person I could become if you wanted it’ and when brontë said ‘if you ever looked at me with what I know is in you, I would be your slave’ and when Sartre said ‘if I’ve got to suffer it may as well be at your hands’
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what a shame doctors don’t prescribe vacation to secluded seaside towns like they used to
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Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
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genuinely i think it's important for adults, especially in the plague times, to play pretend in our day-to-day lives. when i rub my back down with tiger balm so i can sleep without pain, i imagine i am a valiant knight tending to an old injury i received from a dragon. when i go to the store to pick up eggs and milk, i am a lone cowboy riding into town on a mission. when i turn my collar up against the wind i am a femme fatale who's killed 4 husbands and is scoping out a 5th. when i stomp around in the snow i am a doomed polar explorer. if being a little bit silly about my walk to the pharmacy helps me remember that life can be full of joy and whimsy, then so be it.
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Anthony Fineran (B 1981), Call Bront, 2023
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Emily Brontë, from Wuthering Heights originally published c. 1847
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