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Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.

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
Sorrows
Sorrow
Pride
Proud
People
Emily
Breed

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And from the midst of cheerless gloom I passed to bright unclouded day.
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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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But there's this one difference: one is gold put to the use of paving-stones, and the other is tin polished to ape a service of silver. Mine has nothing valuable about it yet I shall have the merit of making it go as far as such poor stuff can go. His had first-rate qualities, and they are lost, rendered worst than unavailing.
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The clock strikes off the hollow half-hours of all the life that is left to you, one by one.
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Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves. But if you be afraid of your touchiness, you must ask pardon, mind, when she comes in.
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Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.
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He turned, as he spoke, a peculiar look in her direction, a look of hatred unless he has a most perverse set of facial muscles that will not, like those of other people, interpret the language of his soul.
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I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death and flung it back to me. People feel with their hearts, Ellen, and since he has destroyed mine, I have not power to feel for him.
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I'll be as dirty as I please, and I like to be dirty, and I will be dirty!
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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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I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives!
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Oh, for the time when I shall sleep Without identity.
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Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now?
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They forgot everything the minute they were together again.
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There is not room for Death, Nor atom that his might could render void: Thou - Thou art Being and Breath, And what Thou art may never be destroyed.
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I understand that most ladies tend to prefer lap dogs.... Perhaps I am an exception.
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I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow.
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I see heaven's glories shine and faith shines equal.
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I have to remind myself to breathe -- almost to remind my heart to beat!
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Alas, for the effects of bad tea and bad temper!
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