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"… In every cloud, in every tree—filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object by day, I am surrounded with her image!" All is fair in love and war, love can be converted into war if things don’t go the right way, people befall to dissatisfaction and antagonism, and the mind-set dies, or the people expire, grudges are fashioned, barriers are situated into position and enemies are made. Love is a vicious cycle in which demise has the preceding cackle… or does it? Charlotte Bronte writes of an individual who longs to be with his or her lover, although the wintry rock and filth of the ground have swallowed the beloved up, into a void evermore. The lover will never see the beloved again; never until the day he ceases to exist himself. “ Cold in the earth -- and fifteen wild Decembers, from those brown hills, have melted into spring; faithful, indeed, is the spirit that remembers after such years of change and suffering!” Bronte questions the spirit on behalf of the breathing; why have you vanished from me for fifteen winters, fifteen Christmases, fifteen springs, falls, birthdays, thanksgivings, why have you made me endure so much for the soul rationale of remembering you?
Approximate Word count = 583
Approximate Pages = 2.3
(250 words per page double spaced)
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