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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.

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
Along
Maturity
Sterner
Wrong
Hopes
Beset
Forget
Forgive
Darker
Desire
Desires
Forgetfulness
Cannot
Forgiving
Bearing
Love
Thee
Tide
World
Youth
Tides
Sweet
Obscure

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You're hard to please: so many friends and so few cares, and can't make yourself content.
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It’s no company at all, when people know nothing and say nothing,’ she muttered.
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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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Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.
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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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I have to remind myself to breathe -- almost to remind my heart to beat!
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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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Terror made me cruel.
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wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers, for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
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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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Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.
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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 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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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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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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Honest people don't hide their deeds.
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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 understand that most ladies tend to prefer lap dogs.... Perhaps I am an exception.
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Cathy, this lamb of yours threatens like a bull!' he said. 'It is in danger of splitting its skull against my knuckles. By God! Mr. Linton, I'm mortally sorry that you are not worth knocking down!
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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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