It’s no company at all, when people know nothing and say nothing,’ she muttered.
EMILY BRONTEIt’s no company at all, when people know nothing and say nothing,’ she muttered.
EMILY BRONTEHow strange! I thought, though everybody hated and despised each other, they could not avoid loving me.
EMILY BRONTEI’ll walk where my own nature would be leading: It vexes me to choose another guide: Where the grey flocks in ferny glens are feeding; Where the wild wind blows on the mountain-side.
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 BRONTEI can say with sincerity that I like cats. A cat is an animal which has more human feelings than almost any other.
EMILY BRONTEAnd, even yet, I dare not let it languish, Dare not indulge in memory’s rapturous pain; Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish, How could I seek the empty world again?
EMILY BRONTEI’ve dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after.
EMILY BRONTEI have dreamed in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind.
EMILY BRONTETreachery and violence are spears pointed at both ends; they wound those who resort to them worse than their enemies.
EMILY BRONTECold in the earth and the deeps now piled above thee, Far, far, removed, cold in the dreary grave! Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee, Severed at last byTime’s all-serving wave?
EMILY BRONTEThe entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.
EMILY BRONTEVain are the thousand creeds That move men’s hearts, unutterably vain; Worthless as withered weeds, Or idlest froth amid the boundless main.
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 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 BRONTELove 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 BRONTEI have fled my country and gone to the heather.
EMILY BRONTE