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You must forgive me, for I struggled only for you.

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
Forgiving
Must
Struggled
Forgive

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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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Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now?
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A good heart will help you to a bonny face, my lad and a bad one will turn the bonniest into something worse than ugly.
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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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By this curious turn of disposition I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness how undeserved, I alone can appreciate.
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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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I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives!
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They forgot everything the minute they were together again.
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I have to remind myself to breathe -- almost to remind my heart to beat!
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Oh, for the time when I shall sleep Without identity.
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Nonsense, do you imagine he has thought as much of you as you have of him?
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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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Terror made me cruel.
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There is not room for Death, Nor atom that his might could render void: Thou - Thou art Being and Breath, And what Thou art may never be destroyed.
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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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I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death and flung it back to me.
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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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In secret pleasure — secret tears This changeful life has slipped away
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I'm happiest when most away I can bear my soul from its home of clay On a windy night when the moon is bright And the eye can wander through worlds of light— When I am not and none beside— Nor earth nor sea nor cloudless sky— But only spirit wandering wide Through infinite immensity.
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I will walk where my own nature would be leading.
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