How strange! I thought, though everybody hated and despised each other, they could not avoid loving me.
EMILY BRONTEI see heaven’s glories shine and faith shines equal.
More Emily Bronte Quotes
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That is how I’m loved! Well, never mind. That is not my Heathcliff. I shall love mine yet; and take him with me: he’s in my soul.
EMILY BRONTE -
The clock strikes off the hollow half-hours of all the life that is left to you, one by one.
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 -
I’ll be as dirty as I please, and I like to be dirty, and I will be dirty!
EMILY BRONTE -
You’re hard to please: so many friends and so few cares, and can’t make yourself content.
EMILY BRONTE -
Vain are the thousand creeds That move men’s hearts, unutterably vain; Worthless as withered weeds, Or idlest froth amid the boundless main.
EMILY BRONTE -
You have been compelled to cultivate your reflective faculties, for want of occasions for frittering your life away in silly trifles.
EMILY BRONTE -
I am now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town.
EMILY BRONTE -
If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.
EMILY BRONTE -
Sweet 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 BRONTE -
Thoughts are tyrants that return again and again to torment us.
EMILY BRONTE -
The entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.
EMILY BRONTE -
If I had caused the cloud, it was my duty to make an effort to dispel it.
EMILY BRONTE -
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 -
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