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.
EMILY BRONTEI 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.
EMILY BRONTEHe’ll love and hate equally under cover, and esteem it a species of impertinence to loved or hated again.
EMILY BRONTEYour presence is a moral poison that would contaminate the most virtuous.
EMILY BRONTEIn secret pleasure — secret tears, This changeful life has slipped away.
EMILY BRONTELook on the grave where thou must sleep Thy last, and strongest foe; It is endurance not to weep, If that repose seem woe.
EMILY BRONTEI have to remind myself to breathe — almost to remind my heart to beat!
EMILY BRONTEI love the ground under his feet, and the air over his head, and everything he touches and every word he says. I love all his looks, and all his actions and him entirely and all together.
EMILY BRONTEAnd, even yet, I dare not let it languish, Dare not indulge in memory’s rapturous pain; Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish, How could I seek the empty world again?
EMILY BRONTEI see heaven’s glories shine and faith shines equal.
EMILY BRONTEI shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow.
EMILY BRONTEMay you not rest, as long as I am living. You said I killed you – haunt me, then.
EMILY BRONTEHonest people don’t hide their deeds.
EMILY BRONTEHe was attached by ties stronger than reason could break — chains, forged by habit, which it would be cruel to attempt to loosen.
EMILY BRONTEI’ll be as dirty as I please, and I like to be dirty, and I will be dirty!
EMILY BRONTEHow cruel, your veins are full of ice-water and mine are boiling.
EMILY BRONTEI despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives!
EMILY BRONTE