A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.
EMILY BRONTEA 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.
More Emily Bronte Quotes
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I understand that most ladies tend to prefer lap dogs…. Perhaps I am an exception.
EMILY BRONTE -
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 -
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 -
I can say with sincerity that I like cats. A cat is an animal which has more human feelings than almost any other.
EMILY BRONTE -
He’ll love and hate equally under cover, and esteem it a species of impertinence to loved or hated again.
EMILY BRONTE -
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 -
If I could I would always work in silence and obscurity, and let my efforts be known by their results.
EMILY BRONTE -
Be with me always – take any form – drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul!
EMILY BRONTE -
I’ll be as dirty as I please, and I like to be dirty, and I will be dirty!
EMILY BRONTE -
I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow.
EMILY BRONTE -
Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
EMILY BRONTE -
Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.
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 -
A messenger of Hope comes every night to me, And offers for short life, eternal liberty.
EMILY BRONTE -
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