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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

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
Wind
Tower
Call
Winds
Church
Towers
Black
Autumn
Rain
Garden
Darkness
Foreboding
Wall
Dreary

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No coward soul is mine.
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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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Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now?
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I see heaven's glories shine and faith shines equal.
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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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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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And from the midst of cheerless gloom I passed to bright unclouded day.
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I'll be as dirty as I please, and I like to be dirty, and I will be dirty!
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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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You have been compelled to cultivate your reflective faculties, for want of occasions for frittering your life away in silly trifles.
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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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Alas, for the effects of bad tea and bad temper!
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He’s more myself than I am
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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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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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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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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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Time brought resignation and a melancholy sweeter than common joy.
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Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.
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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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