This site is dedicated to the memory of Dr. Alan William Smolowe who gave birth to the creation of this database.
Emily Brontë, fully Emily Jane Brontë, aka pseudonym Ellis Bell
I remember the master, before he fell into a doze, stroking her bonny hair - it pleased him rarely to see her gentle - and saying - 'Why canst thou not always be a good lass, Cathy?' And she turned her face up to his, and laughed, and answered, 'Why cannot you always be a good man, father?
Poor human nature, what horrible crimes have been committed in thy name!
Emily Brontë, fully Emily Jane Brontë, aka pseudonym Ellis Bell
He leant his two elbows on his knees, and his chin on his hands and remained rapt in dumb meditation. On my inquiring the subject of his thoughts, he answered gravely 'I'm trying to settle how I shall pay Hindley back. I don't care how long I wait, if I can only do it at last. I hope he will not die before I do!' 'For shame, Heathcliff!' said I. 'It is for God to punish wicked people; we should learn to forgive.' 'No, God won’t have the satisfaction that I shall,' he returned. 'I only wish I knew the best way! Let me alone, and I'll plan it out: while I'm thinking of that I don't feel pain.
Emily Brontë, fully Emily Jane Brontë, aka pseudonym Ellis Bell
My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He’s always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being. So don’t talk of our separation again: it is impracticable.
Crime is naught but misdirected energy. So long as every institution of today, economic, political, social, and moral, conspires to misdirect human energy into wrong channels; so long as most people are out of place doing the things they hate to do, living a life they loathe to live, crime will be inevitable, and all the laws on the statutes can only increase, but never do away with, crime.
Emily Brontë, fully Emily Jane Brontë, aka pseudonym Ellis Bell
A little while, a little while, the weary task is put away, and I can sing and I can smile, alike, while I have holiday. Where wilt thou go, my harassed heart-- what thought, what scene invites thee now what spot, or near or far apart, has rest for thee, my weary brow? There is a spot, 'mid barren hills, where winter howls, and driving rain; but, if the dreary tempest chills, there is a light that warms again. The house is old, the trees are bare, moonless above bends twilight's dome; but what on earth is half so dear-- so longed for--as the hearth of home? The mute bird sitting on the stone, the dank moss dripping from the wall, the thorn-trees gaunt, the walks o'ergrown, I love them--how I love them all! Still, as I mused, the naked room, the alien firelight died away; and from the midst of cheerless gloom, I passed to bright, unclouded day. A little and a lone green lane that opened on a common wide; a distant, dreamy, dim blue chain of mountains circling every side. A heaven so clear, an earth so calm, so sweet, so soft, so hushed an air; and, deepening still the dream-like charm, wild moor-sheep feeding everywhere. THAT was the scene, I knew it well; I knew the turfy pathway's sweep, that, winding o'er each billowy swell, marked out the tracks of wandering sheep. Could I have lingered but an hour, it well had paid a week of toil; but Truth has banished Fancy's power: restraint and heavy task recoil. Even as I stood with raptured eye, absorbed in bliss so deep and dear, my hour of rest had fleeted by, and back came labor, bondage, care.
Emily Brontë, fully Emily Jane Brontë, aka pseudonym Ellis Bell
My great thought is in himself. 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 into a mighty stranger. I would not seem apart of it.
Change | Eternal | Little | Love | Pleasure | Thought | Time | Universe | Will | World | Thought |
Emily Brontë, fully Emily Jane Brontë, aka pseudonym Ellis Bell
She seemed almost over fond of Mr. Linton; and even to his sister she showed plenty of affection. They were both very attentive to her comfort, certainly. It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.
Emily Brontë, fully Emily Jane Brontë, aka pseudonym Ellis Bell
I'm now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town. A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.
Emily Dickinson, fully Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
The spirit looks upon the Dust that fastened it so long with indignation, as a Bird defrauded of its Song.
Emily Brontë, fully Emily Jane Brontë, aka pseudonym Ellis Bell
He had the hypocrisy to represent a mourner: and previous to following with Hareton, he lifted the unfortunate child on to the table and muttered, with peculiar gusto, 'Now, my bonny lad, you are mine! And we'll see if one tree won't grow as crooked as another, with the same wind to twist it!
Emily Brontë, fully Emily Jane Brontë, aka pseudonym Ellis Bell
So it's hopeless outside world, twice as valuable as is my world inside.