On golden summer’s forests green And what a gush of song is given To welcome in that light serene A fresh wind waves the clustering roses And through the open window sighs
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Emily Brontë
Emily Jane Brontë (/ˈbrɒnti/, commonly /ˈbrɒnteɪ/; 30 July 1818 – 19 December 1848) was an English novelist and poet who is best known for her only novel, Wuthering Heights, now considered a classic of English literature. Emily was the third-eldest of the four surviving Brontë siblings, between the youngest Anne and her brother Branwell. She wrote under the pen name Ellis Bell. 2Early life and education Emily Brontë was born on 30 July 1818 in the village of Thornton on the outskirts of Bradford, in the West Riding of Yorkshire, in Northern England, to Maria Branwell and an Irish father, Patrick Brontë. She was the younger sister of Charlotte Brontë and the fifth of six children. In 1820, shortly after the birth of Emily's younger sister Anne, the family moved eight miles away to Haworth, where Patrick was employed as perpetual curate; here the children developed their literary talents. After the death of their mother on 15 September 1821 from cancer, when Emily was three years old, the older sisters Maria, Elizabeth and Charlotte were sent to the Clergy Daughters' School at Cowan Bridge, where they encountered abuse and privations later described by Charlotte in Jane Eyre. At the age of six on 25 November 1824, Emily joined her sisters at school for a brief period. When a typhoid epidemic swept the school, Maria and Elizabeth caught it. Maria, who may actually have had tuberculosis, was sent home, where she die
She drank its crystal flow.
Bright as Eden’s used to be That air and earth have rested me Laid on the grass I lapsed away
Fall leaves fall die flowers away Lengthen night and shorten day Every leaf speaks bliss to me Fluttering from the autumn tree 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
If he loved you with all the power of his soul for a whole lifetime, he couldn't love you as much as I do in a single day.
They forgot everything the minute they were together again.
She is hard to guide any way but her own.
I take so little interest in my daily life, that I hardly remember to eat and drink.
Existence, after losing her, would be hell’.
I hate him for himself, but despise him for the memories he revives.
It is for God to punish wicked people; we should learn to forgive.
I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free... Why am I so changed?
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.
He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made out of, his and mine are the same.
Honest people don't hide their deeds.
I have not broken your heart - you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine.
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.
If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.
How cruel, your veins are full of ice-water and mine are boiling.
How cruel, your veins are full of ice-water and mine are boiling.