He would encourage me to move about the studio. Would not give me a pose. Drew without looking at the paper. Drew on the floor. Follow the lines, he would say, watch the surroundings. A thin arm makes a face sadder. Describing shadows he grew small, rascally.
“Miss Brontë & Miss Emily & Miss Anne used to put away their sewing after prayers, and walk all three one after the other round the table in the parlour till nearly eleven o’clock. Miss Emily walked as long as she could, and when she died Miss Anne & Miss Brontë took it up – and now my heart aches to hear Miss Brontë walking, walking on alone.”
Anne Carson | “Short Talk on Charlotte”