black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

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

Emily Bronte

The old church tower and garden wall Are black with autumn rain And dreary winds foreboding call The darkness down again.
EMILY BRONTE

Autumn Black Darkness Old Wind
In secret pleasure — secret tears, This changeful life has slipped away.
EMILY BRONTE

Change Happiness Life Secret Tears
What kind of living will it be when you – Oh, God! Would you like to live with your soul in the grave?
EMILY BRONTE

Deep Grave Kind Live Soul Yourself
I’ve dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after.
EMILY BRONTE

Dreams Life Myself Stay
It’s no company at all, when people know nothing and say nothing,’ she muttered.
EMILY BRONTE

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

Choice Dog Exception Understand Woman
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
You’re hard to please: so many friends and so few cares, and can’t make yourself content.
EMILY BRONTE

Care Friendship Hard Satisfaction Yourself
I will walk where my own nature would be leading.
EMILY BRONTE

Leadership Myself Nature Walk
Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.
EMILY BRONTE

Autumn Bliss Leaves Talk Tree
Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
EMILY BRONTE

Himself Love Myself Relationship Soul
Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.
EMILY BRONTE

People Proud Sad Sorrow
Vain are the thousand creeds That move men’s hearts, unutterably vain; Worthless as withered weeds, Or idlest froth amid the boundless main.
EMILY BRONTE

Freedom Heart Man Move Waste Time Worth
A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.
EMILY BRONTE

Company Himself Man Sensible

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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