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You're hard to please: so many friends and so few cares, and can't make yourself content.

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
Content
Please
Friends
Care
Many
Hard
Make
Cares

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Heaven did not seem to be my home and I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth and the angels were so angry that they flung me out into the middle of the heath on the top of Wuthering Heights where I woke sobbing for joy.
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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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I have dreamed in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas they have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind.
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I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow.
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It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.
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The winter wind is loud and wild, Come close to me, my darling child Forsake thy books, and mate less play And, while the night is gathering grey, We'll talk its pensive hours away.
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If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.
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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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The clock strikes off the hollow half-hours of all the life that is left to you, one by one.
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Oh, for the time when I shall sleep Without identity.
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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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The entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.
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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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Alas, for the effects of bad tea and bad temper!
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Honest people don't hide their deeds.
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And, even yet, I dare not let it languish, Dare not indulge in memory's rapturous pain Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish, How could I seek the empty world again?
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No coward soul is mine, No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere.
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I understand that most ladies tend to prefer lap dogs.... Perhaps I am an exception.
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I cannot express it: but surely you and everybody have a notion that there is, or should be, an existence of yours beyond you.
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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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