How can this flesh be so soft and yielding, and yet your heart be like an iron fist?
“I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself”.
Jane Eyre (2011)
Am I a machine without feelings? Do you think that because I am poor, plain, obscure, and little that I am soulless and heartless? I have as much soul as you and full as much heart.