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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!

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
Night
Feet
Three
Hell
Eyes
Within
Heaven
Sever
Lasts
Threshold
Last
Hardly
Eye
Sight

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wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers, for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
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Time brought resignation and a melancholy sweeter than common joy.
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I have to remind myself to breathe -- almost to remind my heart to beat!
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It is hard to forgive, and to look at those eyes, and feel those wasted hands,' he answered. 'Kiss me again and don’t let me see your eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer—but yours! How can I?
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Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now?
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It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.
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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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The entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.
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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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I have fled my country and gone to the heather.
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He’s more myself than I am
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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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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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I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow.
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Though earth and man were gone, And suns and universes ceased to be, And Thou wert left alone, Every existence would exist in Thee.
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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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No coward soul is mine, No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere.
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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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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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