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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.

Emily Bronte

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.
EMILY BRONTE

Angel Angry Break Earth Heart Heaven Home Joy Myself Wake Up
You have left me so long to struggle against death, alone, that I feel and see only death! I feel like death!
EMILY BRONTE

Alone Death Feeling Struggle Yourself
By this curious turn of disposition I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness; how undeserved, I alone can appreciate.
EMILY BRONTE

Alone Deserve Heart Myself Praise Reputation
You know, I’ve had a bitter, hard life since I last heard your voice and if I’ve survived it’s all because of you.
EMILY BRONTE

Bitter Hard Life Survive Voice Yourself
Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
EMILY BRONTE

Himself Love Myself Relationship Soul
I’ve dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after.
EMILY BRONTE

Dreams Life Myself Stay
Honest people don’t hide their deeds.
EMILY BRONTE

Action Hide Honesty One Liner People
It is for God to punish wicked people; we should learn to forgive.
EMILY BRONTE

Cruelty Forgiveness God Learning People Punishment
I have lost the faculty of enjoying their destruction, and I am too idle to destroy for nothing.
EMILY BRONTE

Destroy Destruction Enjoyment Lost Myself
May you not rest, as long as I am living. You said I killed you – haunt me, then.
EMILY BRONTE

Haunt Kill Live Myself
I have fled my country and gone to the heather.
EMILY BRONTE

Country Myself Run Travel
He was attached by ties stronger than reason could break — chains, forged by habit, which it would be cruel to attempt to loosen.
EMILY BRONTE

Attachment Break Cruelty Habit Himself Lose Reason Strong
Worthless as wither’d weeds.
EMILY BRONTE

Plants Worth
The tyrant grinds down his slaves and they don’t turn against him, they crush those beneath them.
EMILY BRONTE

Destruction Himself Slave
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.
EMILY BRONTE

Loud Night Play Wild Wind Winter
We must be for ourselves in the long run; the mild and generous are only more justly selfish than the domineering.
EMILY BRONTE

Domination Generosity Ourselves Run Selfish

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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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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Popular Authors

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