Emily Bronte Quotes - Page 2

May you not rest, as long as I am living. You said I killed you - haunt me, then.

I have to remind myself to breathe -- almost to remind my heart to beat!

how cruel, your veins are full of ice-water and mine are boiling

The entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.

I'll be as dirty as I please, and I like to be dirty, and I will be dirty!

Yes, as my swift days near their goal, 'tis all that I implore: In life and death a chainless soul, with courage to endure.

I can say with sincerity that I like cats... A cat is an animal which has more human feelings than almost any other.

You're hard to please: so many friends and so few cares, and can't make yourself content.

Any relic of the dead is precious, if they were valued living.

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!

He’s more myself than I am

It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.

And from the midst of cheerless gloom I passed to bright unclouded day.

I wish I were a girl again, half-savage and hardy, and free.

Your presence is a moral poison that would contaminate the most virtuous

I cannot express it: but surely you and everybody have a notion that there is, or should be, an existence of yours beyond you.

I lingered round them, under that benign sky; watched the moths fluttering among the heath and hare-bells; listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass; and wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth.

Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.

I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death; and flung it back to me.

I take so little interest in my daily life, that I hardly remember to eat and drink.

If he loved with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn't love as much in eighty years as I could in a day.

You have been compelled to cultivate your reflective faculties, for want of occasions for frittering your life away in silly trifles.

wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers, for the sleepers in that quiet earth.

The clock strikes off the hollow half-hours of all the life that is left to you, one by one.

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?