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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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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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Any relic of the dead is precious, if they were valued living.
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Are you acquainted with the mood of mind in which, if you were seated alone, and the cat licking its kitten on the rug before you, you would watch the operation so intently that puss's neglect of one ear would put you seriously out of temper?
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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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Honest people don't hide their deeds.
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wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers, for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
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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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By this curious turn of disposition I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness how undeserved, I alone can appreciate.
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Nonsense, do you imagine he has thought as much of you as you have of him?
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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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You must forgive me, for I struggled only for you.
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No coward soul is mine, No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere.
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I will walk where my own nature would be leading.
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It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.
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He... was attached by ties stronger than reason could break -- chains, forged by habit, which it would be cruel to attempt to loosen.
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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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Alas, for the effects of bad tea and bad temper!
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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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My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods. Time will changeit,I'mwellaware, aswinterchangesthetrees. My Love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneatha source of little visible delight but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff.
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Terror made me cruel.
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