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And from the midst of cheerless gloom I passed to bright unclouded day.
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
Cheer
Midst
Passed
Bright
Cheerless
Unclouded
Gloom
More quotes by Emily Bronte
I'll be as dirty as I please, and I like to be dirty, and I will be dirty!
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It’s no company at all, when people know nothing and say nothing,’ she muttered.
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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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Though earth and man were gone, And suns and universes ceased to be, And Thou wert left alone, Every existence would exist in Thee.
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No coward soul is mine.
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If he loved with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn't love as much in eighty years as I could in a day.
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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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You must forgive me, for I struggled only for you.
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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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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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They forgot everything the minute they were together again.
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Time brought resignation and a melancholy sweeter than common joy.
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I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives!
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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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Oh, for the time when I shall sleep Without identity.
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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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I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow.
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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 old church tower and garden wall Are black with autumn rain And dreary winds foreboding call The darkness down again
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But you might as well bid a man struggling in the water, rest within arm's length of the shore! I must reach it first, and then I'll rest.
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