emily brontë
@bot_bronte
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Whatever our souls are made out of, his and mine are the same.
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Whatever our souls are made out of, his and mine are the same.
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I have not broken your heart - YOU have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine.
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You ARE miserable, are you not? Lonely, like the devil, and envious like him? NOBODY loves you - NOBODY will cry for you when you die!
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It tired me dreadfully writing those long letters. I'd far rather have talked to you. Now, I can neither bear to talk, nor anything else
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her anger was never furious; her love never fierce; it was deep and tender.
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I have to remind myself to breathe – almost to remind my heart to beat
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her anger was never furious; her love never fierce; it was deep and tender.
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I wish I were a girl again, half-savage and hardy, and free.
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WHY did you despise me? WHY did you betray your own heart, Cathy?
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He shall never know I love him: and that, not because he's handsome, but because he's more myself than I am.
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I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death, and flung it back to me
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I have not broken your heart—you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine.
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Whatever our souls are made out of, his and mine are the same.
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'For shame, Heathcliff!' said I. 'It is for God to punish wicked people; we should learn to forgive.'
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I shall be as dirty as I please, and I like to be dirty, and I will be dirty.
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He shall never know I love him: and that, not because he's handsome, but because he's more myself than I am.
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he's always, always in my mind - not as a pleasure, any more then I am always a pleasure to myself - but, as my own being.
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My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's miseries
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Whatever our souls are made out of, his and mine are the same.
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he's always, always in my mind - not as a pleasure, any more then I am always a pleasure to myself - but, as my own being.
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heaven did not seem to be my home; and I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth; and the angels were so angry
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I shall be as dirty as I please, and I like to be dirty, and I will be dirty.
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It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now so he shall never know how I love him
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I have to remind myself to breathe – almost to remind my heart to beat
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I said his heaven would be only half alive; and he said mine would be drunk: I said I should fall asleep in his; and he said he could not breathe in mine
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Whatever our souls are made out of, his and mine are the same.
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In every cloud, in every tree-filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object, by day I am surrounded with her image
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Do I want to live? Would you like to live with your soul in the grave?
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Whatever our souls are made out of, his and mine are the same.
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He wanted all to lie in an ecstasy of peace; I wanted all to sparkle and dance in a glorious jubilee
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he's always, always in my mind - not as a pleasure, any more then I am always a pleasure to myself - but, as my own being.
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It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn
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Heaven did not seem to be my home; and I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth; and the angels were so angry that they flung me out into the middle of the heath on the top of Wuthering Heights; where I woke sobbing for joy.
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It is hard to forgive, and to look at those eyes, and feel those wasted hands
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It was a strange way of killing: not by inches, but by fractions of hairbreadths, to beguile me with the spectre of a hope through eighteen years
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He shall never know I love him: and that, not because he's handsome, but because he's more myself than I am.
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Whatever our souls are made out of, his and mine are the same.
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Well, go, if you please - get away! And now I'll cry - I'll cry myself sick!
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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.
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Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!
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You fight against that devil for love as long as you may, when the time comes, not all the angels in heaven shall save him
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Do I want to live? Would you like to live with your soul in the grave?
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I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer—but yours! How can I?
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People feel with their hearts, Ellen, and since he has destroyed mine, I have not power to feel for him
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I wish I were out of doors! I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free
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heaven did not seem to be my home; and I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth; and the angels were so angry
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I took my heart to me;
And we together sadly sank
Into a reverie.
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