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It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.
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
Thorn
Bending
Embracing
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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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He’s more myself than I am
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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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I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives!
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You're hard to please: so many friends and so few cares, and can't make yourself content.
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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 will walk where my own nature would be leading.
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Any relic of the dead is precious, if they were valued living.
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I understand that most ladies tend to prefer lap dogs.... Perhaps I am an exception.
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In secret pleasure — secret tears This changeful life has slipped away
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wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers, for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
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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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No coward soul is mine.
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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... was attached by ties stronger than reason could break -- chains, forged by habit, which it would be cruel to attempt to loosen.
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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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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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The entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.
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No coward soul is mine, No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere.
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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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