Emily bronte

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Wuthering heights

Wuthering heights

via T R E A S U R E F I E L D - Emily Bronte

via T R E A S U R E F I E L D - Emily Bronte

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

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

Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

I love mornings but it's in the night I get to hold you. I'm starting to love nights too

I love mornings but it's in the night I get to hold you. I'm starting to love nights too

wuthering heights was such a great movie! i was crying sooooo hard at the end though.

wuthering heights was such a great movie! i was crying sooooo hard at the end though.

Emily Bronte :)

Emily Bronte :)

She was a wild, wicked slip of a girl. She burned too bright for this world | Anonymous ART of Revolution

She was a wild, wicked slip of a girl. She burned too bright for this world | Anonymous ART of Revolution

Emily Jane Brontë (30 July 1818 – 19 December 1848) was an English novelist and poet, best remembered for her solitary 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.

Emily Jane Brontë (30 July 1818 – 19 December 1848) was an English novelist and poet, best remembered for her solitary 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.

He is more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. If all else perished and he remained, I should still continue to be, and if all else remained, and we were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger… He’s always, always in my mind; not as a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.

He is more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. If all else perished and he remained, I should still continue to be, and if all else remained, and we were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger… He’s always, always in my mind; not as a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.

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