Look on the grave where thou must sleep Thy last, and strongest foe; It is endurance not to weep, If that repose seem woe.
EMILY BRONTELook on the grave where thou must sleep Thy last, and strongest foe; It is endurance not to weep, If that repose seem woe.
EMILY BRONTELast night, I was on the threshold of hell. To-day, I am within sight of my heaven. I have my eyes on it: hardly three feet to sever me!
EMILY BRONTEI’ve dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after.
EMILY BRONTEYou 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 BRONTEWhat kind of living will it be when you – Oh, God! Would you like to live with your soul in the grave?
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 BRONTEWhatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
EMILY BRONTEI have fled my country and gone to the heather.
EMILY BRONTEA messenger of Hope comes every night to me, And offers for short life, eternal liberty.
EMILY BRONTEI shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow.
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 BRONTEBe 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 BRONTEEarth reserves no blessing For the unblessed of Heaven!
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.
EMILY BRONTEGood words,” I replied. “But deeds must prove it also; and after he is well, remember you don’t forget resolutions formed in the hour of fear.
EMILY BRONTEHeaven 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