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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?
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
Done
Kiss
Hard
Forgiving
Feel
Kissing
Feels
Eyes
Love
Eye
Murderer
Hands
Wasted
Look
Answered
Looks
Forgive
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I have to remind myself to breathe -- almost to remind my heart to beat!
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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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You're hard to please: so many friends and so few cares, and can't make yourself content.
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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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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 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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Honest people don't hide their deeds.
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I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death and flung it back to me. People feel with their hearts, Ellen, and since he has destroyed mine, I have not power to feel for him.
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Alas, for the effects of bad tea and bad temper!
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You know that I could as soon forget you as my existence!
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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.
Emily Bronte
Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.
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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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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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I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death and flung it back to me.
Emily Bronte
It’s no company at all, when people know nothing and say nothing,’ she muttered.
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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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No coward soul is mine.
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Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now?
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