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

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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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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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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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I see heaven's glories shine and faith shines equal.
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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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Hereafter she is only my sister in name not because I disown her, but because she has disowned 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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The tyrant grinds down his slaves and they don't turn against him, they crush those beneath them.
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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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By this curious turn of disposition I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness how undeserved, I alone can appreciate.
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I will walk where my own nature would be leading.
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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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In secret pleasure — secret tears This changeful life has slipped away
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It’s no company at all, when people know nothing and say nothing,’ she muttered.
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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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Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves. But if you be afraid of your touchiness, you must ask pardon, mind, when she comes in.
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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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I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow.
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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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