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Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now?

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

Death Destroy Destruction Feeling Heart Himself Myself People Power
I wish I were a girl again, half-savage and hardy, and free.
EMILY BRONTE

Children Freedom Girl Hard Myself Savage
Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.
EMILY BRONTE

People Proud Sad Sorrow
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 have to remind myself to breathe — almost to remind my heart to beat!
EMILY BRONTE

Breathe Heart Myself
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
I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives!
EMILY BRONTE

Hate Himself Memories Myself Remember
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

Company Happiness Himself Man Myself Pleasure Quite Seek Sensible
Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
EMILY BRONTE

Himself Love Myself Relationship Soul
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 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
Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now?
EMILY BRONTE

Dreams Earth Inspirational Lonely Yourself
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

Desire Forget Hope Love Myself World Wrong Youth
My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary.
EMILY BRONTE

Love Myself Necessary Representation Visible
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

Action Head Himself Love Togetherness Touch Word
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

Chance Leaving Person Run Work

Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now?

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Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now?

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