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Alas, for the effects of bad tea and bad temper!

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
Alas
Tea
Temper
Effects

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And from the midst of cheerless gloom I passed to bright unclouded day.
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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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The clock strikes off the hollow half-hours of all the life that is left to you, one by one.
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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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The entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.
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Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.
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wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers, for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
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In secret pleasure — secret tears This changeful life has slipped away
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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!
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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're hard to please: so many friends and so few cares, and can't make yourself content.
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If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.
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A heaven so clear, an earth so calm, So sweet, so soft, so hushed an air And, deepening still the dreamlike charm, Wild moor-sheep feeding everywhere.
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I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives!
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Any relic of the dead is precious, if they were valued living.
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I will walk where my own nature would be leading.
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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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