black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

You know that I could as soon forget you as my existence!

Emily Bronte

I understand that most ladies tend to prefer lap dogs…. Perhaps I am an exception.
EMILY BRONTE

Choice Dog Exception Understand Woman
Worthless as wither’d weeds.
EMILY BRONTE

Plants Worth
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
I’ll walk where my own nature would be leading: It vexes me to choose another guide: Where the grey flocks in ferny glens are feeding; Where the wild wind blows on the mountain-side.
EMILY BRONTE

Choice Feed Guide Leadership Mountain Nature Walk Wild
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
You know that I could as soon forget you as my existence!
EMILY BRONTE

Existence Forget Myself Yourself
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

Loud Night Play Wild Wind Winter
I have lost the faculty of enjoying their destruction, and I am too idle to destroy for nothing.
EMILY BRONTE

Destroy Destruction Enjoyment Lost Myself
Honest people don’t hide their deeds.
EMILY BRONTE

Action Hide Honesty One Liner People
I have fled my country and gone to the heather.
EMILY BRONTE

Country Myself Run Travel
And, 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 BRONTE

Anger Dare Divine Drinking Empty Engagement Memories Myself Pain Seek World
It is for God to punish wicked people; we should learn to forgive.
EMILY BRONTE

Cruelty Forgiveness God Learning People Punishment
The tyrant grinds down his slaves and they don’t turn against him, they crush those beneath them.
EMILY BRONTE

Destruction Himself Slave
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
Look on the grave where thou must sleep Thy last, and strongest foe; It is endurance not to weep, If that repose seem woe.
EMILY BRONTE

Endurance Enemy Grave Last Sleep Strong

You know that I could as soon forget you as my existence!

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You know that I could as soon forget you as my existence!

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