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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?
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
Soul
Live
Kind
Would
Like
Grave
Graves
Living
More quotes by Emily Bronte
I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow.
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I have to remind myself to breathe -- almost to remind my heart to beat!
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I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives!
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Earnsha was not to be civilized with a wish, and my young lady was no philosopher, and no paragon of patience but both their minds tending to the same point - one loving and desiring to esteem, and the other loving and desiring to be esteemed - they contrived in the end to reach it.
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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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Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.
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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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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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By this curious turn of disposition I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness how undeserved, I alone can appreciate.
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Cathy, this lamb of yours threatens like a bull!' he said. 'It is in danger of splitting its skull against my knuckles. By God! Mr. Linton, I'm mortally sorry that you are not worth knocking down!
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It is hard to forgive, and to look at those eyes, and feel those wasted hands,' he answered. 'Kiss me again and don’t let me see your eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer—but yours! How can I?
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You know that I could as soon forget you as my existence!
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And from the midst of cheerless gloom I passed to bright unclouded day.
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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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Time brought resignation and a melancholy sweeter than common joy.
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Last night, I was on the threshold of hell. To-day, I am within sight of my heaven. I have my eyes on it: hardly three feet to sever me!
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Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now?
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Terror made me cruel.
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It’s no company at all, when people know nothing and say nothing,’ she muttered.
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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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