*snickr*

I look back on my life and realize that I spent all of it writing love letters.
I can live alone, if self-respect, and circumstances require me so to do. I need not sell my soul to buy bliss. I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld, or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give.

Jane Eyre (via oh-sayitaintso)

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