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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.

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
Cultivate
Compelled
Faculty
Occasions
Silly
Away
Reflective
Life
Faculties
Trifles

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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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Nonsense, do you imagine he has thought as much of you as you have of him?
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You know that I could as soon forget you as my existence!
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Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now?
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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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If I had caused the cloud, it was my duty to make an effort to dispel it.
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I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives!
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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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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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Terror made me cruel.
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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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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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He’s more myself than I am
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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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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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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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Joseph is the wearisomest and self-righteous Pharisee who ever ransacked the Bible to rake the promises to himself and fling the curses on his neighbor.
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No coward soul is mine.
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No coward soul is mine, No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere.
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