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I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow.

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
Shall
Grows
Wreaths
Blossom
Weather
Snow
Rose
Smile
Grow

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Honest people don't hide their deeds.
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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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The old church tower and garden wall Are black with autumn rain And dreary winds foreboding call The darkness down again
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Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now?
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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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If I had caused the cloud, it was my duty to make an effort to dispel it.
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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.
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Nonsense, do you imagine he has thought as much of you as you have of him?
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I got the sexton, who was digging Linton's grave, to remove the earth off her coffin lid, and I opened it. I thought, once, I would have stayed there, when I saw her face again - it is hers yet - he had hard work to stir me but he said it would change, if the air blew on it.
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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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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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I will walk where my own nature would be leading.
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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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I take so little interest in my daily life, that I hardly remember to eat and drink.
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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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Time brought resignation and a melancholy sweeter than common joy.
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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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