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The tyrant grinds down his slaves and they don’t turn against him, they crush those beneath them.

Emily Bronte

If I could I would always work in silence and obscurity, and let my efforts be known by their results.
EMILY BRONTE

Effort Inspirational Myself Result Silence Work
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
In secret pleasure — secret tears, This changeful life has slipped away.
EMILY BRONTE

Change Happiness Life Secret Tears
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 BRONTE

Death Destroy Destruction Feeling Heart Himself Myself People Power
There 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 BRONTE

Art Breathe Death Destroy Room
Terror made me cruel.
EMILY BRONTE

Cruelty Myself Terrorism
Earth reserves no blessing For the unblessed of Heaven!
EMILY BRONTE

Blessing Earth Heaven Reserve
If I had caused the cloud, it was my duty to make an effort to dispel it.
EMILY BRONTE

Effort Myself Repair Trouble
I will walk where my own nature would be leading.
EMILY BRONTE

Leadership Myself Nature Walk
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
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

Cold Deep Earth Forgot Grave Love Service Wave
Oh, for the time when I shall sleep Without identity.
EMILY BRONTE

Identity Myself Sleep Time
If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.
EMILY BRONTE

Myself Stranger Universe
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
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

The tyrant grinds down his slaves and they don’t turn against him, they crush those beneath them.

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The tyrant grinds down his slaves and they don’t turn against him, they crush those beneath them.

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Popular Authors

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