“Where silence dwells is sweeter far,” and you must forgive me, dear readers, for my extended silence. Fair warning: I am about to speak up.

In the meantime, a poem:

How still, how happy! Those are words
That once would scarce agree together;
I loved the plashing of the surge—
The changing heaven the breezy weather,

More than smooth seas and cloudless skies
And solemn, soothing, softened airs
That in the forest woke no sighs
And from the green spray shook no tears.

How still, how happy! now I feel
Where silence dwells is sweeter far
Than laughing mirth’s most

Sibling Rivalry

Yesterday I asked a deceptively simple question on Twitter:

Can I get a Jane Eyre v. Wuthering Heights roll call? If you think they are equally amazing, tell me why :)

The Brontë sisters, as painted by their brother, Branwell. Branwell painted himself out of the middle of the picture. Click image to view a larger version.

WOW.  The debate that followed in 140 characters or fewer was heavy.  Some clung to the raw emotion of WH…some argued passionately on Jane’s behalf.  Others pointed out that Anne Brontë wrote too, thank you very much.  It got me thinking on the