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Love is like the wild rose-briar; Friendship like the holly-tree. The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, but which will bloom most constantly?

Emily Bronte

I cannot express it: but surely you and everybody have a notion that there is, or should be, an existence of yours beyond you.
EMILY BRONTE

Beyond Existence Expression Yourself
If he loved with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn’t love as much in eighty years as I could in a day.
EMILY BRONTE

Ability Day Love Measurement Myself Power
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
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

Beautiful Calm Earth Feed Heaven Nature Soft
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
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 BRONTE

Endurance Enemy Grave Last Sleep Strong
You must forgive me, for I struggled only for you.
EMILY BRONTE

Forgiveness Struggle Yourself
She burned too bright for this world.
EMILY BRONTE

Bright Burn Herself Instagram Captions World
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
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
Thoughts are tyrants that return again and again to torment us.
EMILY BRONTE

Return Thinking Torture
He might as well plant an oak in a flowerpot, and expect it to thrive, as imagine he can restore her to vigour in the soil of his shallow cares!
EMILY BRONTE

Care Expectation Flower Himself Plant
In secret pleasure — secret tears, This changeful life has slipped away.
EMILY BRONTE

Change Happiness Life Secret Tears
The tyrant grinds down his slaves and they don’t turn against him, they crush those beneath them.
EMILY BRONTE

Destruction Himself Slave
I am now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town.
EMILY BRONTE

Country Happiness Quite Seek Society Town
But you might as well bid a man struggling in the water, rest within arm’s length of the shore! I must reach it first, and then I’ll rest.
EMILY BRONTE

Man Reach Struggle Water Yourself

Love is like the wild rose-briar; Friendship like the holly-tree. The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, but which will bloom most constantly?

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Love is like the wild rose-briar; Friendship like the holly-tree. The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, but which will bloom most constantly?

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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