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I will walk where my own nature would be leading.

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
Leading
Walk
Walks
Nature
Would

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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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The entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.
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Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now?
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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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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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He had the hypocrisy to represent a mourner: and previous to following with Hareton, he lifted the unfortunate child on to the table and muttered, with peculiar gusto, 'Now, my bonny lad, you are mine! And we'll see if one tree won't grow as crooked as another, with the same wind to twist it!
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It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.
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Sweet Love of youth, forgive, if I forget thee, While the world's tide is bearing me along Sterner desires and darker hopes beset me, Hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee wrong.
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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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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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Time brought resignation and a melancholy sweeter than common joy.
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And from the midst of cheerless gloom I passed to bright unclouded day.
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He shall never know how I love him: and that, not because he's handsome, Nelly, but because he is more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
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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 must forgive me, for I struggled only for you.
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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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But you might as well bid a man struggling in the water, rest within arm's length of the shore! I must reach it first, and then I'll rest.
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The old church tower and garden wall Are black with autumn rain And dreary winds foreboding call The darkness down again
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Are you acquainted with the mood of mind in which, if you were seated alone, and the cat licking its kitten on the rug before you, you would watch the operation so intently that puss's neglect of one ear would put you seriously out of temper?
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