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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.

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
Still
Short
Desolate
Every
Eternal
Messengers
Years
Liberty
Gloom
Life
Year
Tyrants
Hope
Doomed
Comes
Despair
Night
Wear
Stills
Offers
Messenger

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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. 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 shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow.
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Terror made me cruel.
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How strange! I thought, though everybody hated and despised each other, they could not avoid loving me.
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I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives!
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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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You're hard to please: so many friends and so few cares, and can't make yourself content.
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You know that I could as soon forget you as my existence!
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Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul!
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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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Time brought resignation and a melancholy sweeter than common joy.
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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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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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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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It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.
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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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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'll be as dirty as I please, and I like to be dirty, and I will be dirty!
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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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