Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear.

Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear.

Charlotte Brontë
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Charlotte, darling, Henry said to his wife, who was staring at im in gape-mouthed horror. Jassamine, beside her, was wided eyed. Sorry im late. You know, i think i might nearly have the sensor working- Will interrupted. Henry, he said, your on fire. You do know that, don't you? Oh, yes, Henry said eagerly. The flames were now nearly to his shoulder. I've been working like a man possessed all day. Charlotte, did you hear what i said about the sensor? Charlotte dropped her hand from her mouth. Henry! She shrieked. Your arm! Henry glanced down at his arm, and his mouth dropped open.Bloody hell!

Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Angel
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An extraordinary dream by lord charles wellesley. (Charlotte Bronte)'In this slumber i thought i was walking on the banks of a river... Which murmered over small pebbles at the bottom, gleaming like crystals through the silver stream' 'and the green buds of the wild rose trees around were unopened' 'and a mild warmth were shed from the sun... Then at its height in the blue sky

Charlotte Brontë
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Dear God,” said Will, looking from Charlotte to Nate and back again. “Is there anything that makes women sillier than the sight of a wounded young man?”Tessa slitted her eyes at him. “You might want to clean the rest of the blood of your face before you continue arguing in that vein.”Will threw his arms up in the air and stalked off. Charlotte looked at Tessa, a half smile curving the side of her mouth. “I must say, I rather like the way you manage Will.”Tessa shook her head. “No one manages Will.

Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Angel
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OvermodulationBy Charlotte M Liebel-FawlsYou're a cavity in my oasis,You're a porthole in my sea,You're a stretch of the imagination every time you look at me.You're an ocean in my wineglass,You're a Steinway on the beach,You're a captivating audience, an exciting Rembrandt,A Masterpiece.

Charlotte M. Liebel
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Wait," Charlotte said. "I'd like to say something, if I may, Papa." He nodded, and Charlotte stood. Her siblings were still looking very grave. She hoped they were in the proper frame of mind to hear what she had to say, especially Branwell. "I have been thinking a great deal about ... My stories." She nodded significantly to them, willing them to understand that she was not talking about writing so much as about crossing over. "Papa was very wise when he called my writing a childish habit, and I think he understands that, for me, its a dangerous one as well." The small square of paper that had caused such consternation lay in front of her on the table. Now she took it up and held it out, looking at each if her siblings in turn. "Emily. Anne. Branwell." She ripped the paper in half. Emily gasped. " I am renouncing my invented worlds and all who live there. If any of you are in the grip if a similar childish habit"- she raised an eyebrow at her brother - "I challenge you to do the same.

Lena Coakley, Worlds of Ink and Shadow
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Charlotte looked up doubtfully, wondering why, as she got older, she seemed to be more afraid of things, not less.

Penelope Farmer, Charlotte Sometimes
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Charlotte blanched. 'I'm only a maid, miss.''A maid is still a woman.

Olivia Newport, The Dilemma of Charlotte Farrow
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