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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.

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
Love
Delight
Like
Rocks
Nelly
Necessary
Linton
Eternal
Foliage
Source
Resembles
Littles
Visible
Little
Woods
Time
Winter

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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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By this curious turn of disposition I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness how undeserved, I alone can appreciate.
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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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No coward soul is mine, No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere.
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We must be for ourselves in the long run the mild and generous are only more justly selfish than the domineering.
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Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now?
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And from the midst of cheerless gloom I passed to bright unclouded day.
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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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Any relic of the dead is precious, if they were valued living.
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No coward soul is mine.
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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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Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.
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Cathy, this lamb of yours threatens like a bull!' he said. 'It is in danger of splitting its skull against my knuckles. By God! Mr. Linton, I'm mortally sorry that you are not worth knocking down!
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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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What kind of living will it be when you - Oh, God! Would you like to live with your soul in the grave?
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He’s more myself than I am
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He had the hypocrisy to represent a mourner: and previous to following with Hareton, he lifted the unfortunate child on to the table and muttered, with peculiar gusto, 'Now, my bonny lad, you are mine! And we'll see if one tree won't grow as crooked as another, with the same wind to twist it!
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Nonsense, do you imagine he has thought as much of you as you have of him?
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Oh, for the time when I shall sleep Without identity.
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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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