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They forgot everything the minute they were together 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
Minutes
Together
Everything
Forgot
Minute

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Look on the grave where thou must sleep Thy last, and strongest foe It is endurance not to weep, If that repose seem woe.
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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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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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Joseph is the wearisomest and self-righteous Pharisee who ever ransacked the Bible to rake the promises to himself and fling the curses on his neighbor.
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Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.
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Alas, for the effects of bad tea and bad temper!
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But there's this one difference: one is gold put to the use of paving-stones, and the other is tin polished to ape a service of silver. Mine has nothing valuable about it yet I shall have the merit of making it go as far as such poor stuff can go. His had first-rate qualities, and they are lost, rendered worst than unavailing.
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I understand that most ladies tend to prefer lap dogs.... Perhaps I am an exception.
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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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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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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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You're hard to please: so many friends and so few cares, and can't make yourself content.
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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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Honest people don't hide their deeds.
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You must forgive me, for I struggled only for you.
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He had been content with daily labour and rough animal enjoyments, 'till Catherine crossed his path. Shame at her scorn, and hope of her approval, were his first prompts to higher pursuits and, instead of guarding him from one and winning him to the other, his endeavors to raise himself had produced just the contrary result.
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In secret pleasure — secret tears This changeful life has slipped away
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I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives!
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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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Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.
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