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The tyrant grinds down his slaves and they don't turn against him, they crush those beneath them.

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
Beneath
Crush
Tyranny
Slave
Grinds
Turn
Tyrant
Turns
Grind
Slaves
Tyrants

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It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.
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Time brought resignation and a melancholy sweeter than common joy.
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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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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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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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I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free... Why am I so changed? I'm sure I should be myself were I once among the heather on those hills.
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If he loved with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn't love as much in eighty years as I could in a day.
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Oh, for the time when I shall sleep Without identity.
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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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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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It’s no company at all, when people know nothing and say nothing,’ she muttered.
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wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers, for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
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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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I'm happiest when most away I can bear my soul from its home of clay On a windy night when the moon is bright And the eye can wander through worlds of light— When I am not and none beside— Nor earth nor sea nor cloudless sky— But only spirit wandering wide Through infinite immensity.
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I see heaven's glories shine and faith shines equal.
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Terror made me cruel.
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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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Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul!
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