Emily Brontë (1818-1848), sister of Charlotte and Anne Brontë, barely lived to age thirty, but left the world an accomplished novel of passion and tragedy — Wuthering Heights. It was her only novel, but it’s an enduring classic. Besides desire and passion, it also touches upon economic, social, and psychological issues. It is often noted as the ideal “romantic novel.” With its ultimate ending shrouded in mystery, Brontë leaves the reader to draw their own conclusion.

With her poetry, Brontë  focused on descriptions of feeling and mood rather then accurate details of settings, allowing readers to visualize their own place based on their interpretation.

Major works

• Wuthering Heights
• The Complete Poems of Emily Jane Brontë
• Poems by Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell

More Information

• Emily Brontë’s Letters and Diary Papers
• Emily Brontë – eText Archive and Study Guide

Visit Emily Brontë’s home and birthplace

• The Brontë Birthplace - Brontë County, UK

Emily Brontë Quotes

“I have dreamed in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind.” (Wuthering Heights, 1847)

“If I could I would always work in silence and obscurity, and let my efforts be known by their results.”

“Nature and Books belong to the eyes that see them.”

“Any relic of the dead is precious, if they were valued living.” (Wuthering Heights, 1847)

“I am now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town. A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.” (Wuthering Heights, 1847)

“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 to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it.” (Wuthering Heights, 1847)

“I cannot express it: but surely you and everybody have a notion that there is, or should be, an existence of yours beyond you.”

“A person who has not done one half his day’s work by ten o clock, runs a chance of leaving the other half undone.” (Wuthering Heights, 1847)

“Whether it is right or advisable to create beings like Heathcliff, I do not know; the writer who possesses the creative gift owns something that, at times, strangely wills and works for itself.” (On Wuthering Heights’ leading man)

“They DO live more in earnest, more in themselves, and less in surface, change, and frivolous external things. I could fancy a love for life here almost possible; and I was a fixed unbeliever in any love of a year’s standing.” (Wuthering Heights, 1847)

“It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now; so he shall never know how I love him: and that, not because he’s handsome, Nelly, but because he’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same; and Linton’s is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire.” (Wuthering Heights, 1847)

Vain are the thousand creeds
That move men’s hearts: unutterably vain;
Worthless as withered weeds,
Or idlest froth amid the boundless main.
(“Last Lines”)

“And, could we lift the veil, and give
One brief glimpse to thine eye
Thou wouldst rejoice for those that live,
BECAUSE they live to die.”
(“A Day Dream”)

“Where, writhing ‘neath the strokes of Fate,
The mangled wretch was forced to smile;
To match his patience ‘gainst her hate,
His heart rebellious all the while.
Where Pleasure still will lead to wrong,
And helpless Reason warn in vain;
And Truth is weak, and Treachery strong;
And Joy the surest path to Pain;
And Peace, the lethargy of Grief;
And Hope, a phantom of the soul;
And life, a labour, void and brief;
And Death, the despot of the whole!”
(“How Clear She Shines”)

“Though earth and man were gone,
And suns and universes ceased to be,
And Thou were left alone,
Every existence would exist in Thee.

There is not room for Death,
Nor atom that his might could render void:
Thou–Thou art Being and Breath,
And what Thou art may never be destroyed.”
(“Last Lines”)

“Time stands before the door of Death,
Upbraiding bitterly
And Conscience, with exhaustless breath,
Pours black reproach on me:

And though I’ve said that Conscience lies
And Time should Fate condemn;
Still, sad Repentance clouds my eyes,
And makes me yield to them!”
(“Self-Interrogation”)

“I’ll walk, but not in old heroic traces,
And not in paths of high morality,
And not among the half-distinguish’d faces,
The clouded forms of long-past history.

I’ll walk when my own nature would be leading:
It vexes me to choose another guide:
Where the grey flocks in ferny glens are feeding,
Where the wild wind blows on the mountain side.”
(“Stanza”)