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I see heaven’s glories shine and faith shines equal.

Emily Bronte

What kind of living will it be when you – Oh, God! Would you like to live with your soul in the grave?
EMILY BRONTE

Deep Grave Kind Live Soul Yourself
Terror made me cruel; and finding it useless to attempt shaking the creature off, I pulled its wrist on to the broken pane, and rubbed it to and fro till the blood ran down and soaked the bedclothes.
EMILY BRONTE

Blood Break Creature Cruelty Run Terrorism
A good heart will help you to a bonny face, my lad and a bad one will turn the bonniest into something worse than ugly.
EMILY BRONTE

Face Goodness Heart Ugly Worst
I see heaven’s glories shine and faith shines equal.
EMILY BRONTE

Equality Faith Glory Heaven See Shine
I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death; and flung it back to me.
EMILY BRONTE

Break Up Death Heart Himself Love Myself Return
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
How cruel, your veins are full of ice-water and mine are boiling.
EMILY BRONTE

Burn Cruelty Ice Myself Water Yourself
Honest people don’t hide their deeds.
EMILY BRONTE

Action Hide Honesty One Liner People
That is how I’m loved! Well, never mind. That is not my Heathcliff. I shall love mine yet; and take him with me: he’s in my soul.
EMILY BRONTE

Himself Ignorance Love Mindset Myself Soul
A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.
EMILY BRONTE

Company Himself Man Sensible
Any relic of the dead is precious, if they were valued living.
EMILY BRONTE

Death Live Value
Wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers, for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
EMILY BRONTE

Breathe Imagination Quiet Sleep Wonder
Oh, for the time when I shall sleep Without identity.
EMILY BRONTE

Identity Myself Sleep Time
I understand that most ladies tend to prefer lap dogs…. Perhaps I am an exception.
EMILY BRONTE

Choice Dog Exception Understand Woman
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?
EMILY BRONTE

Eyes Feeling Forgiveness Hands Hard Love Murder Myself See Wasted
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 see heaven’s glories shine and faith shines equal.

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I see heaven’s glories shine and faith shines equal.

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