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Excerpt from jane eyre charlotte bronte 2 i was glad of it: i never liked long walks, especially on chilly afternoons: dreadful to me was the coming home in the raw twilight, with nipped fingers and toes, and a heart saddened by the chidings of bessie, the nurse, and humbled by the consciousness of my physical inferiority to eliza, john, and georgiana reed.

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Why didn't van gogh knock on breton's door? it seemed imposing and a bit scary. it looked alarmingly middle-class. he couldn't find the door. he saw a book that he liked instead.