black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

I will walk where my own nature would be leading.

Emily Bronte

The old church tower and garden wall Are black with autumn rain And dreary winds foreboding call The darkness down again.
EMILY BRONTE

Autumn Black Darkness Old Wind
Time brought resignation and a melancholy sweeter than common joy.
EMILY BRONTE

Common Joy Melancholy Sweet Time
I am now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town.
EMILY BRONTE

Country Happiness Quite Seek Society Town
What kind of living will it be when you – Oh, God! Would you like to live with your soul in the grave?
EMILY BRONTE

Deep Grave Kind Live Soul Yourself
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
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
I have fled my country and gone to the heather.
EMILY BRONTE

Country Myself Run Travel
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
Wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers, for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
EMILY BRONTE

Breathe Imagination Quiet Sleep Wonder
I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow.
EMILY BRONTE

Bloom Flower Growth Myself Rose Smile Snow
Hereafter she is only my sister in name; not because I disown her, but because she has disowned me.
EMILY BRONTE

Herself Leaving Myself Name Relationship Sister
The entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.
EMILY BRONTE

Collection Existence Herself Lose Myself World
Earth reserves no blessing For the unblessed of Heaven!
EMILY BRONTE

Blessing Earth Heaven Reserve
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

Freedom Heart Man Move Waste Time Worth
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
Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves. But if you be afraid of your touchiness, you must ask pardon, mind, when she comes in.
EMILY BRONTE

Afraid Mindset People Proud Sad Sorrow Touch Yourself

I will walk where my own nature would be leading.

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I will walk where my own nature would be leading.

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