What kind of living will it be when you – Oh, God! Would you like to live with your soul in the grave?
EMILY BRONTEWhat kind of living will it be when you – Oh, God! Would you like to live with your soul in the grave?
EMILY BRONTEIt 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 BRONTEI shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow.
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 BRONTESweet Love of youth, forgive, if I forget thee, While the world’s tide is bearing me along; Sterner desires and darker hopes beset me, Hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee wrong.
EMILY BRONTEI will walk where my own nature would be leading.
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 BRONTEMay you not rest, as long as I am living. You said I killed you – haunt me, then.
EMILY BRONTEOh, for the time when I shall sleep Without identity.
EMILY BRONTEI love the ground under his feet, and the air over his head, and everything he touches and every word he says. I love all his looks, and all his actions and him entirely and all together.
EMILY BRONTEThey forgot everything the minute they were together again.
EMILY BRONTEI can say with sincerity that I like cats. A cat is an animal which has more human feelings than almost any other.
EMILY BRONTEYes, as my swift days near their goal, ’tis all that I implore: In life and death a chainless soul, with courage to endure.
EMILY BRONTEYou have been compelled to cultivate your reflective faculties, for want of occasions for frittering your life away in silly trifles.
EMILY BRONTEI cannot express it: but surely you and everybody have a notion that there is, or should be, an existence of yours beyond you.
EMILY BRONTEShe burned too bright for this world.
EMILY BRONTE