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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
Grow
Shall
Grows
Wreaths
Blossom
Weather
Snow
Rose
Smile

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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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I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives!
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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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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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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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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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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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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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If I had caused the cloud, it was my duty to make an effort to dispel it.
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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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The tyrant grinds down his slaves and they don't turn against him, they crush those beneath them.
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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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I have fled my country and gone to the heather.
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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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It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.
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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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Terror made me cruel.
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I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free... Why am I so changed? I'm sure I should be myself were I once among the heather on those hills.
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