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The entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.

Emily Bronte

The clock strikes off the hollow half-hours of all the life that is left to you, one by one.
EMILY BRONTE

Clock Life Oneself Time
Your presence is a moral poison that would contaminate the most virtuous.
EMILY BRONTE

Contaminate Moral Poison Presence Virtue Yourself
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
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
Nay, 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 BRONTE

Life Love Myself Reality Relationship Shame Yourself
There is not room for Death, Nor atom that his might could render void: Thou – Thou art Being and Breath, And what Thou art may never be destroyed.
EMILY BRONTE

Art Breathe Death Destroy Room
How cruel, your veins are full of ice-water and mine are boiling.
EMILY BRONTE

Burn Cruelty Ice Myself Water Yourself
No coward soul is mine.
EMILY BRONTE

Coward Myself One Liner Soul
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
Oh, for the time when I shall sleep Without identity.
EMILY BRONTE

Identity Myself Sleep Time
I never told my love vocally still.
EMILY BRONTE

Love Myself
The winter wind is loud and wild, Come close to me, my darling child; Forsake thy books, and mate less play; And, while the night is gathering grey, We’ll talk its pensive hours away.
EMILY BRONTE

Loud Night Play Wild Wind Winter
I can say with sincerity that I like cats. A cat is an animal which has more human feelings than almost any other.
EMILY BRONTE

Animal Feeling Human Myself Sincere
It is astonishing how sociable I feel myself compared with him.
EMILY BRONTE

Compare Feeling Himself Social
I wish I were a girl again, half-savage and hardy, and free.
EMILY BRONTE

Children Freedom Girl Hard Myself Savage
In secret pleasure — secret tears, This changeful life has slipped away.
EMILY BRONTE

Change Happiness Life Secret Tears

The entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.

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The entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.

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