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May you not rest, as long as I am living. You said I killed you – haunt me, then.

Emily Bronte

That is how I’m loved! Well, never mind. That is not my Heathcliff. I shall love mine yet; and take him with me: he’s in my soul.
EMILY BRONTE

Himself Ignorance Love Mindset Myself Soul
You know, I’ve had a bitter, hard life since I last heard your voice and if I’ve survived it’s all because of you.
EMILY BRONTE

Bitter Hard Life Survive Voice Yourself
Cold in the earth and the deeps now piled above thee, Far, far, removed, cold in the dreary grave! Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee, Severed at last byTime’s all-serving wave?
EMILY BRONTE

Cold Deep Earth Forgot Grave Love Service Wave
No coward soul is mine.
EMILY BRONTE

Coward Myself One Liner Soul
The entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.
EMILY BRONTE

Collection Existence Herself Lose Myself World
He was attached by ties stronger than reason could break — chains, forged by habit, which it would be cruel to attempt to loosen.
EMILY BRONTE

Attachment Break Cruelty Habit Himself Lose Reason Strong
I see heaven’s glories shine and faith shines equal.
EMILY BRONTE

Equality Faith Glory Heaven See Shine
We must be for ourselves in the long run; the mild and generous are only more justly selfish than the domineering.
EMILY BRONTE

Domination Generosity Ourselves Run Selfish
By this curious turn of disposition I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness; how undeserved, I alone can appreciate.
EMILY BRONTE

Alone Deserve Heart Myself Praise Reputation
It is for God to punish wicked people; we should learn to forgive.
EMILY BRONTE

Cruelty Forgiveness God Learning People Punishment
Heaven did not seem to be my home; and I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth; and the angels were so angry that they flung me out into the middle of the heath on the top of Wuthering Heights; where I woke sobbing for joy.
EMILY BRONTE

Angel Angry Break Earth Heart Heaven Home Joy Myself Wake Up
You have left me so long to struggle against death, alone, that I feel and see only death! I feel like death!
EMILY BRONTE

Alone Death Feeling Struggle Yourself
Your presence is a moral poison that would contaminate the most virtuous.
EMILY BRONTE

Contaminate Moral Poison Presence Virtue Yourself
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
Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.
EMILY BRONTE

Autumn Bliss Leaves Talk Tree
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

May you not rest, as long as I am living. You said I killed you – haunt me, then.

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May you not rest, as long as I am living. You said I killed you – haunt me, then.

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Popular Authors

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