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 BRONTEI am now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town. A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.
More Emily Bronte Quotes
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I cannot love thee; thou ‘rt worse than thy brother. Go, say thy prayers, child, and ask God’s pardon. I doubt thy mother and I must rue that we ever reared thee!
EMILY BRONTE -
How cruel, your veins are full of ice-water and mine are boiling.
EMILY BRONTE -
A messenger of Hope comes every night to me, And offers for short life, eternal liberty.
EMILY BRONTE -
I never told my love vocally still.
EMILY BRONTE -
Be with me always – take any form – drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul!
EMILY BRONTE -
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 -
Wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers, for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
EMILY BRONTE -
You have been compelled to cultivate your reflective faculties, for want of occasions for frittering your life away in silly trifles.
EMILY BRONTE -
I am now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town. A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.
EMILY BRONTE -
You must forgive me, for I struggled only for you.
EMILY BRONTE -
It is astonishing how sociable I feel myself compared with him.
EMILY BRONTE -
The entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.
EMILY BRONTE -
Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves. But if you be afraid of your touchiness, you must ask pardon, mind, when she comes in.
EMILY BRONTE -
You’re hard to please: so many friends and so few cares, and can’t make yourself content.
EMILY BRONTE -
Thoughts are tyrants that return again and again to torment us.
EMILY BRONTE