Emily bronte

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"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same." ~ Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë, 1847

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“I’ve dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas: they’ve gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind.” - Chapter IX, Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte #emilybronte

“I’ve dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas: they’ve gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind.” - Chapter IX, Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte #emilybronte

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.

Romantic Quote Poster. Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë Quote, Literary Print For School, Library, Office or Home by EchoLiteraryArts on Etsy

Romantic Quote Poster. Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of, Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë Quote, Literary Print For Library, Office or Home

Romantic Quote Poster. Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë Quote, Literary Print For School, Library, Office or Home by EchoLiteraryArts on Etsy

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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