Jane Eyre Gutenberg Novels & Stories

"Just log yourself in...." "Password?" He flushes scarlet. "green hyphen eyes hyphen zero one. No capitals." I plaster on a straight face, refusing absolutely to let myself smile as I tap it in. You're as sentimental as I am, you fraudulent old bastard.... Then I google what I'm looking for, first trying four different spellings for 'Scheherazade' before instead searching on 'The Thousand and One Nights' and eventually tracking down a free read from the Gutenberg site.

Olivia dropped Jane Eyre in front of him. “I told you I don't like reading,” Tristan declined, shoving the book back to her.

I feel so stupid. I don't think I will ever come out of my room again. My gaze darted to my window, and a sigh of relief pushed out of my mouth as I saw his window was closed and covered with curtains. What can I do to punish myself, also, that will get me out of this mess? I pondered with my fingers in my mouth, then snapped my fingers in the air. After realizing that I haven't been catching up in Darius’s class. Especially in terms of reading a novel. I intended to start with The Castle of Otranto by Horace Walpole (1764)

They were the size of swords, and they hummed with the same frequency as the silver dagger. "The Author is editing the scene," the girl said, her black eyes reflecting the violet ink falling from the sky. "The Green World failed. The Silver Peak failed. Now, they're trying a Gothic Script. They're turning the world into a tragedy." "Who is the Author?" I demanded, grabbing the scissors. They felt heavy, real, and dangerously sharp. "The one who pays for the ink," the girl said. "Julian wasn't the creator. He was just the first character who learned how to read the margins."

There was no title on it, only a strange symbol carved into the center. Helena walked back and placed it down to the bed beside Jane’s fingers. After helping Jane to sit up, the woman smiled as she handed a quill. Jane stared at it. Then she looked at Helena. “You can write.” Jane hesitated. Her fingers slowly wrapped around the quill. It felt strange. Her hand was still trembling. “Take your time.” Helena moved the black book closer. Jane lowered the quill onto the paper. For a moment, she didn’t know what to write.

She asked Pearl. Pearl started to say Bukowski but Rhys had ruined that for her. She thought about it and she remembered as a young girl the novel that truly changed her life. "Jane Eyre." She said. "The Brontës. It was Mr. Rochester that truly ruined me. A man and his ghosts. And a woman strong enough to love him despite them." She said. Erik looked at her. It took everything he had to stop himself from telling her right there and then she owned his heart.

In addition to the Song of Songs, the Book of Ruth, the Book of Lamentations, Ecclesiastes and the Book of Esther, their version included the Book of Vashti. At first, the decision to publish a new bible created a major uproar in both the Jewish and Christian communities, but once the artifacts found in the cabin and the book itself were authenticated, many other bible publishers also edited theirs as well. While other publishing houses were being downsized, merging, or going out of business altogether, Steine and Stein was thriving. Anna also decided to keep the company name, even though she shortened Nate’s last name and changed hers to Anna Brave.

She was holding her notebook. "Elara! Vane! Look!" She pointed to the last page of the notebook. A new paragraph was writing itself in real-time, in a gold ink that hadn't existed five minutes ago. “The End of the Story was burned, but the Drafts remain. And the First Draft of the New World has just been rejected by the Publisher.” The ground beneath the manor groaned. But it wasn't an earthquake. A massive, celestial shadow fell over the house. Elara looked up and saw a giant, golden pen miles long descending from the clouds.

-Jane Eyre Chapter twenty-seven of Jane Eyre, a particular quote comes to mind as he stares at me with that penetrating gaze, a gaze that is figuratively burning a hole in me. At this moment I am battling the same thoughts that she did, between what’s right, and wrong, and what I actually want.

I preferred to go into a staring contest with an inanimate object that to look at Asher, who I might have consciously forgotten. A book on the shelf stood out, it was inconspicuously standing out among its peers; Jane Eyre. A classic I had gotten as a gift for my eighteenth birthday from Reene, thinking of my Reene my eyes began to tear up. I hadn’t contacted any one from home since and although it was barely twelve hours since I left, I could not help thinking of them.