There was much sense in your smile: it was very shrewd, and seemed to make light of your own abstraction. It seemed to say–'My fine visions are all very well, but I must not forget they are absolutely unreal. I have a rosy sky and a green flowery Eden in my brain; but without, I am perfectly aware, lies at my feet a rough tract to travel, and around me gather black tempests to encounter.
-Charlotte Brontë
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