Emily Brontë Quotes

English novelist and poet (1818–1848)

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Emily Jane Brontë (30 July 1818 – 19 December 1848) was an English novelist and poet who was the sister of Charlotte and Anne Brontë, known as the Brontë sisters. Her only novel, Wuthering Heights, was first published under the pseudonym Ellis Bell.

Bio from: Wikiquote (CC BY-SA 4.0)

Pen Names: Ellis Bell

Alternative Names: Emily Jane Bronte • Emily Jane Brontë • Emily Bronte • Emily (Jane) Brontë

From Wikidata (CC0)

He'll love and hate equally under cover, and esteem it a species of impertinence to loved or hated again.

But you might as well bid a man struggling in the water, rest within arm's length of the shore! I must reach it first, and then I'll rest.

Your cold blood cannot be worked into a fever; your veins are full of ice water; but mine are boiling, and the sight of such chillness makes them dance.

And from the midst of cheerless gloom
I passed to bright unclouded day.

Riches I hold in light esteem,
And love I laugh to scorn,
And lust of fame was but a dream
That vanished with the morn.

And if I pray, the only prayer
That moves my lips for me
Is, 'Leave the heart that now I bear,
And give me liberty!'

Yes, as my swift days near their goal,
'Tis all that I implore -
In life and death, a chainless soul,
With courage to endure.

Terror made me cruel; and finding it useless to attempt shaking the creature off, I pulled its wrist on to the broken pane, and rubbed it to and fro till the blood ran down and soaked the bedclothes...

"Good words," I replied. "But deeds must prove it also; and after he is well, remember you don't forget resolutions formed in the hour of fear."

If I had caused the cloud, it was my duty to make an effort to dispel it.

And, even yet, I dare not let it languish,
Dare not indulge in memory’s rapturous pain;
Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish,
How could I seek the empty world again?

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

It’s no company at all, when people know nothing and say nothing,’ she muttered.

I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free; and laughing at injuries, not maddening under them! Why am I so changed? why does my blood rush into a hell of tumult at a few words?

I'd be glad of a retaliation that wouldn't recoil on myself; but treachery and violence are spears pointed at both ends: they wound those who resort to them, worse than their enemies.

As different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire.

He might as well plant an oak in a flowerpot, and expect it to thrive, as imagine he can restore her to vigour in the soil of his shallow cares!