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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
Slave
Grinds
Turn
Tyrant
Turns
Grind
Slaves
Tyrants
Beneath
Crush
Tyranny

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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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How strange! I thought, though everybody hated and despised each other, they could not avoid loving me.
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In secret pleasure — secret tears This changeful life has slipped away
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It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.
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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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If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.
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No coward soul is mine.
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Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.
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My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary.
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I understand that most ladies tend to prefer lap dogs.... Perhaps I am an exception.
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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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By this curious turn of disposition I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness how undeserved, I alone can appreciate.
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My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods. Time will changeit,I'mwellaware, aswinterchangesthetrees. My Love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneatha source of little visible delight but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff.
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Oh, for the time when I shall sleep Without identity.
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I take so little interest in my daily life, that I hardly remember to eat and drink.
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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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I have to remind myself to breathe -- almost to remind my heart to beat!
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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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Still let my tyrants know, I am not doomed to wear Year after year in gloom, and desolate despair A messenger of Hope comes every night to me, And offers for short life, eternal liberty.
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