You don't have amazing beauty or brilliant jewelry. You have only one heart that loves literature.
You are as humble as grass.
You, as magnificent as a tree.
You are Charlotte Brontexq, an ordinary woman and a great writer.
Charlotte Brontexq, you were born in a poor family in England. Your mother died a long time ago, leaving only a starving boy. You have to drop out of school and start running around to make a living. At that time, you were just a teenage girl, but you had to work everywhere. You have been a tutor and a waiter in a restaurant, but no matter how humble and poor you are, you never give up your dream and never stop moving forward. You are obsessed with changing the world's prejudice against women, and you are eager to succeed.
You start writing poetry with a green dream. You drop your poem into the green mailbox and send it to robert southey, your most admired poet. A month, two months, you finally received a reply, but you waited for a long time, only to be ridiculed and ridiculed. You cried for a long time, but you didn't give up. You stick the letter that bites your heart like a poisonous snake on the wall and tell yourself firmly that only the weak will hold back.
You started writing again, and repeated blows and satires failed to stop you from writing. Finally, a book that shocked the literary world appeared in front of people-Jane Eyre. You, you made it! You, Charlotte Brontexq, did it! You, a weather-beaten woman who was declared unsuccessful by the authorities, succeeded!
What do you have? What sustains you and knocks on the door of literature? What inspired you to change from grass to tree? This is a dream! Because of your dream, you dare to brush your shoulders with fireworks and cover your heart with loneliness; Because of your dream, you dare to wear boots to meet them; Because of your dream, you wrote Jane Eyre and created a miracle; Because of your dream, you are no longer that immature, ordinary and humble girl; Because of your dream, you opened beautiful big flowers with blood and tears, and watered the grass into a magnificent tree!
Dear Mr. Charlotte, you have taught me many things: Don't be the stone at the bottom of the ravine, which pours out of my dream as time goes by, and don't be the floating white clouds, which won't leave any shallow waves in Bi Hen. If you want to do it, you must be a never-ending wind, with color in one season and appreciation in the other. If you want to do it, you should be the upright tree, rooted in the dark soil and stretching its branches and leaves to the bright sky.
Dear Mr. Charlotte, thank you, please allow me to tell you quietly in the stream where time flows: you taught me the power of dreams, you inspired me to be confident, and you made me understand that dreams will make the barren land bloom brilliantly!