“When I read a novel I am not here. I am transported to far-off places, my eyes unseeing of the words on the page, busy with a scene being played out in my mind's eye, with my ears engaged, hearing the voices carry from the pen to the present. What a lovely place to be-not here - Just Jane (Chapter Four Page 35)”

“I held out my sisters' letters for him to read. Tears appeared in his eyes, and he kissed the letters and declared, "I love your sisters! It shall be the object of my life to justify the trust shown in these letters. May God bless them.”

“For who would I be if I tried to be someone besides Jane? The poser of the world try so hard to be what they are not, and yet... how fatigued they must be Perhaps I am not smart enough to be one of them. Nor strong enough in constitution.”

“I reached for the notebook which was always close by. All thoughts of composing epic poems of Greek heroes had left me. The words that often burst from my onto the paper in recent days would be considered mere nothings to the world, but they were everything to me . . . They were the pourings of my heart FOR my heart . . .”

“And so...we prayed. And I added a silent prayer of my own, giving God thanks for the blessing of my father.”

“But his letters . . . I took them with me, let the "ounces" cry aloud. I tried to leave, and could not. They would not be left; it was not my fault. I will not be scolded.”

“I lifted my face to the sun and let its warmth and light caress me with its favor.”