Emily Bronte

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

A person who has not done one half his day's work by ten o clock, runs a chance of leaving the other half undone.

But you might as well bid a man struggling in the water rest within arms length of the shore I must reach it first and then Ill rest.

Having leveled my palace, don't erect a hovel and complacently admire your own charity in giving me that for a home.

The tyrant grinds down his slaves and they don't turn against him, they crush those beneath them.

Whatever our souls are made of his and mine are the same.

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

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

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

Cold in the earth and fifteen wild Decembers From those brown hills have melted into spring.

A good heart will help you to a bonny face, my lad and a bad one will turn the bonniest into something worse than ugly.

Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.

The tyrant grinds down his slaves and they dont turn against him they crush those beneath them.

I'll walk where my own nature would be leading: It vexes me to choose another guide.

Terror made me cruel.

A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.

I see heaven's glories shine and faith shines equal.

Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.

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

I have dreamed in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind.

If I could I would always work in silence and obscurity, and let my efforts be known by their results.

I am now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town. A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.

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

Love is like the wild rose-briar; Friendship like the holly-tree. The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, but which will bloom most constantly?

Honest people don't hide their deeds.