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Terror made me cruel.

Emily Bronte

Treachery and violence are spears pointed at both ends; they wound those who resort to them worse than their enemies.
EMILY BRONTE

End Enemy Violence Worst Wound
I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives!
EMILY BRONTE

Hate Himself Memories Myself Remember
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
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
Earth reserves no blessing For the unblessed of Heaven!
EMILY BRONTE

Blessing Earth Heaven Reserve
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
I see heaven’s glories shine and faith shines equal.
EMILY BRONTE

Equality Faith Glory Heaven See Shine
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

Bloom Constant Friendship Love Rose Wild
And, 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 BRONTE

Anger Dare Divine Drinking Empty Engagement Memories Myself Pain Seek World
Your presence is a moral poison that would contaminate the most virtuous.
EMILY BRONTE

Contaminate Moral Poison Presence Virtue Yourself
If I had caused the cloud, it was my duty to make an effort to dispel it.
EMILY BRONTE

Effort Myself Repair Trouble
We must be for ourselves in the long run; the mild and generous are only more justly selfish than the domineering.
EMILY BRONTE

Domination Generosity Ourselves Run Selfish
Cold 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 BRONTE

Cold Deep Earth Forgot Grave Love Service Wave
I have fled my country and gone to the heather.
EMILY BRONTE

Country Myself Run Travel
Oh, for the time when I shall sleep Without identity.
EMILY BRONTE

Identity Myself Sleep Time
Though earth and man were gone, And suns and universes ceased to be, And Thou wert left alone, Every existence would exist in Thee.
EMILY BRONTE

Alone Earth Existence Man Sun Universe

Terror made me cruel.

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Terror made me cruel.

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