Anne Bronte
Anne Bronte
Anne Brontëwas an English novelist and poet, the youngest member of the Brontë literary family...
NationalityBritish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth17 January 1820
heart eye soul
There is such a thing as looking through a person's eyes into the heart, and learning more of the height, and breadth, and depth of another's soul in one hour than it might take you a lifetime to discover, if he or she were not disposed to reveal it, or if you had not the sense to understand it.
healing wings soul
My soul is awakened, my spirit is soaring and carried aloft on the wings of the breeze.
heaven soul should
Yet, should thy darkest fears be true, If Heaven be so severe, That such a soul as thine is lost, Oh! how shall I appear?
soul spirit
My soul is awakened, my spirit is soaring.
heart self fool
What a fool you must be," said my head to my heart, or my sterner to my softer self.
stars fall thinking
I may be permitted, like the doctors, to cure a greater evil by a less, for I shall not fall seriously in love with the young widow, I think, nor she with me - that's certain - but if I find a little pleasure in her society I may surely be allowed to seek it; and if the star of her divinity be bright enough to dim the lustre of Eliza's, so much the better, but I scarcely can think it
imperfect-world imperfection a-perfect-world
There is always a but in this imperfect world.
girl respect self
I would not send a poor girl into the world, ignorant of the snares that beset her path; nor would I watch and guard her, till, deprived of self-respect and self-reliance, she lost the power or the will to watch and guard herself .
heart sunshine wind
His heart was like a sensitive plant, that opens for a moment in the sunshine, but curls up and shrinks into itself at the slightest touch of the finger, or the lightest breath of wind.
mind delight cherish
No generous mind delights to oppress the weak, but rather to cherish and protect.
eye tired heart
Oh, I am very weary, Though tears no longer flow; My eyes are tired of weeping, My heart is sick of woe.
crush eye rose
Preserve me from such cordiality! It is like handling briar-roses and may-blossoms - bright enough to the eye, and outwardly soft to the touch, but you know there are thorns beneath, and every now and then you feel them too; and perhaps resent the injury by crushing them in till you have destroyed their power, though somewhat to the detriment of your own fingers.
hero honor enough
Are you hero enough to unite yourself to one whom you know to be suspected and despised by all around you, and identify your interests and your honor with hers?
able moral telling-the-truth
I wished to tell the truth, for truth always conveys its own moral to those who are able to receive it.