It is strange people should be so greedy, when they are alone in the world.
EMILY BRONTEMy love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary.
More Emily Bronte Quotes
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I understand that most ladies tend to prefer lap dogs…. Perhaps I am an exception.
EMILY BRONTE -
I have fled my country and gone to the heather.
EMILY BRONTE -
I 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 BRONTE -
A heaven so clear, an earth so calm, So sweet, so soft, so hushed an air; And, deepening still the dreamlike charm, Wild moor-sheep feeding everywhere.
EMILY BRONTE -
I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death; and flung it back to me. People feel with their hearts, Ellen, and since he has destroyed mine, I have not power to feel for him.
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 despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives!
EMILY BRONTE -
I’ve dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after.
EMILY BRONTE -
A messenger of Hope comes every night to me, And offers for short life, eternal liberty.
EMILY BRONTE -
A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.
EMILY BRONTE -
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 -
Sweet 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 BRONTE -
Treachery and violence are spears pointed at both ends; they wound those who resort to them worse than their enemies.
EMILY BRONTE -
We must be for ourselves in the long run; the mild and generous are only more justly selfish than the domineering.
EMILY BRONTE -
Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.
EMILY BRONTE