Novels By The Brontes Novels & Stories

“We are here, it seems, until the evening. Sammy nodded her thanks and began to eat, and her mother, smiling, went to the warehouse. Chewing, Samantha delved into the catalog - it, indeed, has been significantly updated. Looking through the sections, she noticed new items and tried to remember what was where - her father always noted on which shelf certain books were located, in order to make it easier to search. Finding the new edition of Jane Eyre on the list, Sammy smiled involuntarily. She loved all the Brontes, although the creations of each of them were very different from the writings of the sisters, but Charlotte's novel was most appreciated. Soon they were to write an essay on Jane

I pick it up and notice that it has my name on it. Should I open it? I know it's not good to snoop around people's stuff but... at least I have to know what's in the box. I need to know. If it has my name, then it means it's meant for me. I carefully open the box and inside, I find a novel. 'JANE EYRE by Charlotte Brontë' Scott loved to read, alot. I bet he was going to surprise me with this novel later but... whatever happened, already happened. I will definitely read it.

He returned his attention to the bookshelf at the rear of his office, the one he’d been browsing when he’d first heard the strange sounds outside, only being made by the cats, after all. The top shelf held purely “literary works.” Poetry collections of Blake, Yeats, Robert Frost, and Shakespeare. Prose collections of Zora Neal Hurston, Hemingway, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Flannery O’Connor, and folktales collected by the Brothers Grimm. Novels, from The Man in the Iron Mask to Madame Bovary, to Villette and Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, to A Passage to India by E. M. Forster.

I am aware that he is like looking at my face for a long time and is keep on glancing at me. “Ahmmnn a book entitled Wuthering Heights by Emily Bonte, Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens, and hemmnn Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.” I said as I look into the books there. “I see, those are rare books now since they are old and people nowadays don’t like sad and pure narration stories.” Henry said and I just nod. Henry is now helping me through the pile of books. It was almost 30 minutes yet we haven’t found one of the 3 books.

Here we go. "Well, my boy," he began, perching on the arm of Sebastian's chair, "it was the winter of 1847. Charlotte had just finished 'Jane Eyre,' and Emily was in a right state over 'Wuthering Heights.' Feisty bunch, those sisters." I couldn't help but snort. "Dad, please tell me you didn't seduce the Brontë sisters." He waved a dismissive hand. "Nothing so crass, darling. I simply... inspired them. A bit of devilish charm goes a long way in the creative process."

The walls being light colored didn’t surprise me more than the mountains upon mountains of books he has sitting on bookshelves surrounding the room. I walk around the room running my hands over all the different titles and authors. Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, Mark Twain, H.G Wells, and so much more. Wuthering Heights, a first edition version sat in a case in between the shelves by a set of double doors to what looks like a balcony. It stuck out to me more than any of the other titles because it surprises me more than anything that he would read a book such as that. I try to picture in my head him sitting in a chair with glasses, all relaxed and snuggled up reading a classical romance novel

What to say? "I think Charlotte Bronte based her poems and novels on how she and her sisters survived adulthood. The way she spun her works that have combined moral realism with gothic views was a reflection of how they grew up. Poor but with morals. A good example of that is Jane Eyre written in 1847. Sir." She licked her dry lips nervously. His eyes pierced her even more. She tried to suppress her shivers. Hoping it was the assessment he was looking for, she waited.

“It's okay, I also just walked straight, didn't look to the right or left.” “It's Jane Eyre.” Diana couldn't help herself when she saw the cover of one of the books on the front in her arms. “I also have one at home.” “Oh yeah?” the woman glanced at her book and smiled shyly. “I was on vacation in Bandung and purposely bought a lot of books as a friend of my boredom. From the synopsis at the back of the book, it seems like an interesting book.” “It is very interesting. This is a romance book from old English literary writings, first published in 1847 and the love story still survives today.” Diana rolled her eyes. “When Charlotte Brontte published it that year, it generated a lot of controve

He started to help her unpack her books, glancing at the spines as they started to shelve them in a tiny bookshelf that wouldn’t hold even half of her collection. Jane Austen, Charlotte Brontë, Elizabeth Gaskell, John Keats, Shakespeare, Virginia Woolf, Charles Dickens—so many books, most of which had clearly been read over and over again. Some were falling apart, barely glued together. When he took out a copy of Frankenstein, the cover fell off entirely. “Oh, poor guy. This one has been through a lot.” Rose took the book from him, smiling. That smile burst something inside him. Something hot, something dangerous. Something that felt exactly like longing. He caught his breath and forced hims

"I love getting lost in stories, exploring new worlds and meeting new characters." Claire's smile grew wider. "What's your favorite book?" I thought for a moment, trying to narrow it down. "I have a few," I said finally. "I love 'Pride and Prejudice', 'Jane Eyre', and 'Wuthering Heights'." Claire's eyes lit up. "Those are all classics," she said. "I love them too. Have you read any of the Bronte sisters' other works?"