painting idea

'You never felt jealousy, did you, Miss Eyre? Of course not: I need
not ask you; because you never felt love. You have both sentiments yet
to experience: your soul sleeps; the shock is yet to be given which
shall waken it. You think all existence lapses in as quiet a flow as
that in which your youth has hitherto slid away. Floating on with
closed eyes and muffled ears, you neither see the rocks bristling
not far off in the bed of the flood, nor hear the breakers boil at
their base. But I tell you- and you may mark my words- you will come
some day to a craggy pass in the channel, where the whole of life's
stream will be broken up into whirl and tumult, foam and noise: either
you will be dashed to atoms on crag points, or lifted up and borne
on by some master-wave into a calmer current- as I am now.
'I like this day; I like that sky of steel; I like the sterness and
stillness of the world under this frost. I like Thornfield, its
antiquity, its retirement, its old crow-trees and thorn-trees, its
grey facade, and lines of dark windows reflecting that metal welkin:
and yet how long have I abhorred the very thought of it, shunned it
like a great plague-house? How I do still abhor-'