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I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives!

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
Revives
Revive
Despise
Memories
Hate

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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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Hereafter she is only my sister in name not because I disown her, but because she has disowned me.
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Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.
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He had been content with daily labour and rough animal enjoyments, 'till Catherine crossed his path. Shame at her scorn, and hope of her approval, were his first prompts to higher pursuits and, instead of guarding him from one and winning him to the other, his endeavors to raise himself had produced just the contrary result.
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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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Terror made me cruel.
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They forgot everything the minute they were together again.
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You must forgive me, for I struggled only for you.
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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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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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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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I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death and flung it back to me.
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I have to remind myself to breathe -- almost to remind my heart to beat!
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Alas, for the effects of bad tea and bad 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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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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The entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.
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I have fled my country and gone to the heather.
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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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Oh, for the time when I shall sleep Without identity.
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