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

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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 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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In secret pleasure — secret tears This changeful life has slipped away
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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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Oh, for the time when I shall sleep Without identity.
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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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By this curious turn of disposition I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness how undeserved, I alone can appreciate.
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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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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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He’s more myself than I am
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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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The entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.
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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'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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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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How strange! I thought, though everybody hated and despised each other, they could not avoid loving me.
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Time brought resignation and a melancholy sweeter than common joy.
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I will walk where my own nature would be leading.
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