I have fled my country and gone to the heather.
EMILY BRONTEI have fled my country and gone to the heather.
EMILY BRONTEThe old church tower and garden wall Are black with autumn rain And dreary winds foreboding call The darkness down again.
EMILY BRONTEWhatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
EMILY BRONTEI shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow.
EMILY BRONTEI never told my love vocally still.
EMILY BRONTEThe 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 BRONTEHereafter she is only my sister in name; not because I disown her, but because she has disowned me.
EMILY BRONTEThe night is darkening round me, The wild winds coldly blow; But a tyrant spell has bound me, And I cannot, cannot go.
EMILY BRONTEProud people breed sad sorrows for themselves. But if you be afraid of your touchiness, you must ask pardon, mind, when she comes in.
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 BRONTEHe 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 BRONTEMay you not rest, as long as I am living. You said I killed you – haunt me, then.
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 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 BRONTELove is like the wild rose-briar; Friendship like the holly-tree. The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, but which will bloom most constantly?
EMILY BRONTEThey forgot everything the minute they were together again.
EMILY BRONTE