Powerful angels, safe in heaven!

Alas! the readers of our era are less favoured. But, courage! I will not pause either to accuse or repine. I know poetry is not dead, nor genius lost; nor has Mammon gained power over either, to bind or slay: they will both assert their existence, their presence, their liberty and strength again one day. Powerful angels, safe in heaven! they smile when sordid souls triumph, and feeble ones weep over their destruction. Poetry destroyed? Genius banished? No! Mediocrity, no: do not let envy prompt you to the thought. No; they not only live, but reign, and redeem: and without their divine influence spread everywhere you would be in hell--the hell of your own meanness.

Charlotte Brontë. Jane Eyre. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, Inc. 2001. p. 316.

Resurgam

'I am very happy, Jane; and when you hear that I am dead, you must be sure and not grieve about. We all must die one day, and the illness which is removing me is not painful; it is gentle and gradual: my mind is at rest. I leave no one to regret me much: I have only a father; and he is lately married, and will not miss me. By dying young, I shall escape great sufferings. I had not qualities or talents to make my way very well in the world; I should have been continually at falt.'

Charlotte Brontë. Jane Eyre. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, Inc. 2001. p. 69.