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I have dreamed in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas they have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind.

Emily Bronte

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Emily Bronte
Age: 30 †
Born: 1818
Born: July 30
Died: 1848
Died: December 19
Novelist
Poet
Thornton
West Yorkshire
Ellis Bell
Emily Jane Brontë
Aimili Bolangte
Emili Bronte
Emily Jane Bronte
Ai-mi-li Po-lang-tʻe
Ėmilii︠a︡ Bronte
エ ミ リ ー ブ ロ ン テ
Like
Gone
Water
Altered
Dream
Dreamed
Ideas
Stayed
Ever
Wine
Mind
Dreams
Love
Color
Life
Changed

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Any relic of the dead is precious, if they were valued living.
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Joseph is the wearisomest and self-righteous Pharisee who ever ransacked the Bible to rake the promises to himself and fling the curses on his neighbor.
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What kind of living will it be when you - Oh, God! Would you like to live with your soul in the grave?
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We must be for ourselves in the long run the mild and generous are only more justly selfish than the domineering.
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Hereafter she is only my sister in name not because I disown her, but because she has disowned me.
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The winter wind is loud and wild, Come close to me, my darling child Forsake thy books, and mate less play And, while the night is gathering grey, We'll talk its pensive hours away.
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Alas, for the effects of bad tea and bad temper!
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If I were in heaven, Nelly, I should be extremely miserable. Because you are not fit to go there, I answered. All sinners would be miserable in heaven.
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And, even yet, I dare not let it languish, Dare not indulge in memory's rapturous pain Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish, How could I seek the empty world again?
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The entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.
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A heaven so clear, an earth so calm, So sweet, so soft, so hushed an air And, deepening still the dreamlike charm, Wild moor-sheep feeding everywhere.
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You have been compelled to cultivate your reflective faculties, for want of occasions for frittering your life away in silly trifles.
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A good heart will help you to a bonny face, my lad and a bad one will turn the bonniest into something worse than ugly.
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He had been content with daily labour and rough animal enjoyments, 'till Catherine crossed his path. Shame at her scorn, and hope of her approval, were his first prompts to higher pursuits and, instead of guarding him from one and winning him to the other, his endeavors to raise himself had produced just the contrary result.
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Look on the grave where thou must sleep Thy last, and strongest foe It is endurance not to weep, If that repose seem woe.
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Nonsense, do you imagine he has thought as much of you as you have of him?
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You have left me so long to struggle against death, alone, that I feel and see only death! I feel like death!
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I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives!
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