Nonsense, do you imagine he has thought as much of you as you have of him?
EMILY BRONTENonsense, do you imagine he has thought as much of you as you have of him?
EMILY BRONTEThoughts are tyrants that return again and again to torment us.
EMILY BRONTEA person who has not done one half his day’s work by ten o clock, runs a chance of leaving the other half undone.
EMILY BRONTEBy this curious turn of disposition I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness; how undeserved, I alone can appreciate.
EMILY BRONTEI pray every night that I may live after him; because I would rather be miserable than that he should be — that proves I love him better than myself.
EMILY BRONTEOh, for the time when I shall sleep Without identity.
EMILY BRONTEThere is not room for Death, Nor atom that his might could render void: Thou – Thou art Being and Breath, And what Thou art may never be destroyed.
EMILY BRONTEA 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.
EMILY BRONTEI am now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town. A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.
EMILY BRONTEYou must forgive me, for I struggled only for you.
EMILY BRONTENay, you’ll be ashamed of me everyday of your life,” he answered; “and the more ashamed, the more you know me; and I cannot bide it.
EMILY BRONTEI shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow.
EMILY BRONTEYou know that I could as soon forget you as my existence!
EMILY BRONTEIt 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 BRONTEYou 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 BRONTEWondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers, for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
EMILY BRONTE