And there you see the distinction between our feelings: had he been in my place, and I in his, though I hated… — Emily Bronte Copy Share Image
We must be for ourselves in the long run; the mild and generous are only more justly selfish than the domineering. — Emily Bronte Copy Share Image
I shouldn't care what you suffered. I care nothing for your sufferings. Why shouldn't you suffer? I do! Will you forget me?… — Emily Bronte Copy Share Image
Lines I die but when the grave shall press The heart so long endeared to thee When earthy cares no more distress… — Emily Bronte Copy Share Image
You have left me so long to struggle against death, alone, that I feel and see only death! I feel like death! — Emily Bronte Copy Share Image
He leant his two elbows on his knees, and his chin on his hands and remained rapt in dumb meditation. On my… — Emily Bronte Copy Share Image
May you not rest, as long as I am living. You said I killed you - haunt me, then. — Emily Bronte Copy Share Image
He is more myself than I am. Whatever our two souls are made of, his and mine are the same. — Emily Bronte Copy Share Image
I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow; I shall sing when night's decay Ushers in a drearier day. — Emily Brontë Copy Share Image
My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods. Time will changeit,I'mwellaware, aswinterchangesthetrees. My Love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneatha… — Emily Bronte Copy Share Image
“I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free; and laughing at injuries, not maddening under them! Why am I… — Emily Brontë Copy Share Image
The entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her. — Emily Bronte Copy Share Image
“Papa talks enough of my defects, and shows enough scorn of me, to make it natural I should doubt myself. I doubt whether I… — Emily Brontë Copy Share Image
The intense horror of nightmare came over me: I tried to draw back my arm, but the hand clung to it, and a most… — Emily Bronte Copy Share Image
“It is not in him to be loved like me: how can she love in him what he has not?” — Emily Brontë Copy Share Image
I have lost the faculty of enjoying their destruction, and I am too idle to destroy for nothing. — Emily Bronte Copy Share Image
