“And I don’t know what happened, but I thought I heard you. . .”

“Because,” he said, “I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you–especially when you are near to me, as now: it is if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And If that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land, come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapped; and then I’ve a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you–you’d forget me.”

~Edward Rochester, Jane Eyre


Painting Her Portrait

Painting Her Portrait

I’m painting my portrait
An absolute likeness
Faithful to illustrate every fine line
I’m mastering detail
Highlighting defects
Making a permanent mirror to see
All of the faults that lie hidden in me

I’m painting my portrait
It’s plain and uneven
Reminding me what I am
What I must be
I’m leaving out nothing
No matter how painful
All of my flaws on display to be seen

Now my painting is done
I’ll start another
This one of her
And when I close my eyes, I clearly see her face
Capture her grace and poise
Fight back the tears
And I’m painting her portrait…

– Marla Schaffel, Jane Eyre, OBC


“You’ve got to stand up and
take a look around you then a look way up to the sky.
And when your deepest thoughts are broken,
keep on dreaming boy, cause when you stop dreamin’ it’s time to die.”

~Blind Melon