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The clock strikes off the hollow half-hours of all the life that is left to you, one by one.

Emily Bronte

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
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
My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary.
EMILY BRONTE

Love Myself Necessary Representation Visible
Terror made me cruel.
EMILY BRONTE

Cruelty Myself Terrorism
I wish I were a girl again, half-savage and hardy, and free.
EMILY BRONTE

Children Freedom Girl Hard Myself Savage
He might as well plant an oak in a flowerpot, and expect it to thrive, as imagine he can restore her to vigour in the soil of his shallow cares!
EMILY BRONTE

Care Expectation Flower Himself Plant
How strange! I thought, though everybody hated and despised each other, they could not avoid loving me.
EMILY BRONTE

Avoid Hate Love Myself Strange Thinking
It is strange people should be so greedy, when they are alone in the world.
EMILY BRONTE

Alone Greedy People Strange World
They forgot everything the minute they were together again.
EMILY BRONTE

Forget Love Relationship Togetherness
I’ll be as dirty as I please, and I like to be dirty, and I will be dirty!
EMILY BRONTE

Choice Dirty Myself
How cruel, your veins are full of ice-water and mine are boiling.
EMILY BRONTE

Burn Cruelty Ice Myself Water Yourself
I have to remind myself to breathe — almost to remind my heart to beat!
EMILY BRONTE

Breathe Heart Myself
The entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.
EMILY BRONTE

Collection Existence Herself Lose Myself World
A 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 BRONTE

Chance Leaving Person Run Work
The clock strikes off the hollow half-hours of all the life that is left to you, one by one.
EMILY BRONTE

Clock Life Oneself Time
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

The clock strikes off the hollow half-hours of all the life that is left to you, one by one.

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The clock strikes off the hollow half-hours of all the life that is left to you, one by one.

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Popular Authors

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