441 Quotes by Emily Brontë

Cold inthe earthand the deepsnow piled abovethee, 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?

In secret pleasure — secret tears This changeful life has slipped away

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

Still let my tyrants know, I am not doomed to wear Year after year in gloom, and desolate despair; A messenger of Hope comes every night to me, And offers for short life, eternal liberty.

He is more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made out of, his and mine are the same.

He shall never know I love him: and that, not because he’s handsome, but because he’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made out of, his and mine are the same.

What kind of living will it be when you – Oh, God! Would you like to live with your soul in the grave?

Existence, after losing her, would be hell.

No coward soul is mine, No trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphere...