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Oh, I am very weary, Though tears no longer flow My eyes are tired of weeping, My heart is sick of woe.

Anne Bronte

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Anne Bronte
Age: 29 †
Born: 1820
Born: January 17
Died: 1849
Died: May 28
Governess
Novelist
Poet
Thornton
West Yorkshire
Acton Bell
Ann Brontë
Anne Bronte
Ann Bronte
Annie Bronte
Sick
Tears
Longer
Eyes
Woe
Though
Weeping
Eye
Weary
Heart
Flow
Tired

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The end of Religion is not to teach us how to die, but how to live.
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God will judge us by our own thoughts and deeds, not by what others say about us.
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This paper will serve instead of a confidential friend into whose ear I might pour forth the overflowings of my heart. It will not sympathize with my distresses, but then, it will not laugh at them, and, if I keep it close, it cannot tell again so it is, perhaps, the best friend I could have for the purpose.
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Such humble talents as God had given me I will endeavour to put to their greatest use if I am able to amuse, I will try to benefit too and when I fell it my duty to speak unpalatable truth, with the help of God, I will speak it, through it be to the prejudice of my name and to the detriment of my reader's immediate pleasure as well as my own.
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Are you hero enough to unite yourself to one whom you know to be suspected and despised by all around you, and identify your interests and your honor with hers?
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I wished to tell the truth, for truth always conveys its own moral to those who are able to receive it.
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Yet, should thy darkest fears be true, If Heaven be so severe, That such a soul as thine is lost, Oh! how shall I appear?
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A little girl loves her bird--Why? Because it lives and feels because it is helpless and harmless? A toad, likewise, lives and feels, and is equally helpless and harmless but though she would not hurt a toad, she cannot love it like the bird, with its graceful form, soft feathers, and bright, speaking eyes.
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There are great books in this world and great worlds in books.
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A man must have something to grumble about and if he cant complain that his wife harries him to death with her perversity and ill-humour, he must complain that she wears him out with her kindness and gentleness.
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I am truly miserable - more so than I like to acknowledge to myself. Pride refuses to aid me. It has brought me into the scrape, and will not help me out of it.
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You will form a very inadequate estimate of a man's character, if you judge by what a fond sister says of him. The worst of them generally know how to hide their misdeeds from their sisters' eyes, and their mother's, too.
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Keep guard over your eyes and ears as the inlets of your heart, and over your lips as the outlets, lest they betray you in a moment of unwariness.
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I began this book with the intention of concealing nothing, that those who liked might have the benefit of perusing a fellow creature's heart: but we have some thoughts that all the angels in heaven are welcome to behold -- but not our brother-men -- not even the best and kindest amongst them.
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Farewell to Thee! But not farewell To all my fondest thoughts of Thee Within my heart they still shall dwell And they shall cheer and comfort me.
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No for instead of delivering myself up to the full enjoyment of the as others do, I am always troubling my head about how I could produce the same effect upon canvas and as that can never be done, it is mere vanity and vexation of spirit.
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My heart is too thoroughly dried to be broken in a hurry, and I mean to live as long as I can.
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When a lady condescends to apologise, there is no keeping one’s anger.
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[Preface to second edition:] ... I am satisfied that if a book is a good one, it is so whatever the sex of the author may be.
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All true histories contain instruction though, in some, the treasure may be hard to find, and when found, so trivial in quantity, that the dry, shriveled kernel scarcely compensates for the trouble of cracking the nut.
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