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!
EMILY BRONTEHow strange! I thought, though everybody hated and despised each other, they could not avoid loving me.
More Emily Bronte Quotes
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Nonsense, do you imagine he has thought as much of you as you have of him?
EMILY BRONTE -
I cannot love thee; thou ‘rt worse than thy brother. Go, say thy prayers, child, and ask God’s pardon. I doubt thy mother and I must rue that we ever reared thee!
EMILY BRONTE -
It’s no company at all, when people know nothing and say nothing,’ she muttered.
EMILY BRONTE -
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 -
It is for God to punish wicked people; we should learn to forgive.
EMILY BRONTE -
They forgot everything the minute they were together again.
EMILY BRONTE -
I have to remind myself to breathe — almost to remind my heart to beat!
EMILY BRONTE -
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 -
Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now?
EMILY BRONTE -
Yes, as my swift days near their goal, ’tis all that I implore: In life and death a chainless soul, with courage to endure.
EMILY BRONTE -
Cold in the earth and the deeps now piled above thee, Far, far, removed, cold in the dreary grave! Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee, Severed at last byTime’s all-serving wave?
EMILY BRONTE -
I cannot express it: but surely you and everybody have a notion that there is, or should be, an existence of yours beyond you.
EMILY BRONTE -
Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.
EMILY BRONTE -
I am now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town.
EMILY BRONTE -
Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.
EMILY BRONTE