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One day, in the autumn of 1845, I accidentally lighted on a MS volume of verse in my sister Emily's handwriting... I looked it over, and something more than surprise seized me, a deep conviction that these were not common effusions, nor at all like the poetry women generally write. I thought them condensed and terse, vigorous and genuine. To my ear, they had also a peculiar music - wild, melancholy, and elevating. Charlotte Bronte, 1850 The background image used on this page:
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Jay Boersma | jay@re-vision.com | 5/26/01
