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A heaven so clear, an earth so calm, So sweet, so soft, so hushed an air And, deepening still the dreamlike charm, Wild moor-sheep feeding everywhere.

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
Clear
Sheep
Heaven
Soft
Stills
Charm
Moor
Earth
Wild
Dreamlike
Still
Calm
Hushed
Everywhere
Moors
Air
Deepening
Sweet
Feeding

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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 gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death and flung it back to me.
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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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Time brought resignation and a melancholy sweeter than common 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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I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives!
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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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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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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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I take so little interest in my daily life, that I hardly remember to eat and drink.
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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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I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death and flung it back to me. People feel with their hearts, Ellen, and since he has destroyed mine, I have not power to feel for him.
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It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.
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It’s no company at all, when people know nothing and say nothing,’ she muttered.
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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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He turned, as he spoke, a peculiar look in her direction, a look of hatred unless he has a most perverse set of facial muscles that will not, like those of other people, interpret the language of his soul.
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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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I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow.
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Terror made me cruel.
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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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