Born: July 30, 1818 | Died: December 19, 1848
Nationality: British | Genre: Classic Fiction, Gothic Fiction, Poetry
Emily Brontë was an English novelist and poet best known for Wuthering Heights (1847), a singular book that blends Gothic intensity with piercing psychological insight. Writing under the pen name “Ellis Bell,” she fashioned a story of fierce love and revenge on the Yorkshire moors, using layered narration to explore obsession, class, and the damage people do to one another. Her poetry—haunting, spare, and spiritually bold—grew from the private “Gondal” world she created with her sister Anne, and shows a deep kinship with nature and an unshakable inner strength.
Quiet and reclusive, Brontë lived most of her life at the Haworth parsonage with her siblings. After a brief stint away at school and short periods as a teacher, she returned home, where her routine, the moorland walks, and close family circle fed her writing. Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell appeared in 1846, followed by Wuthering Heights the next year. Emily died of illness at just thirty, leaving one novel behind; yet its originality—the wild setting, moral complexity, and unforgettable voices—secured her lasting place in English literature.
Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!
fromWuthering HeightsbyHe shall never know how I love him; and that, not because he’s handsome, Nelly, but because he’s more myself than I am.
fromWuthering HeightsbyIf 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.
fromWuthering HeightsbyTreachery and violence are spears pointed at both ends; they wound those who resort to them worse than their enemies.
fromWuthering HeightsbyI have 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.
fromWuthering HeightsbyI have not broken your heart—you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine.
fromWuthering HeightsbyThe tyrant grinds down his slaves, and they don’t turn against him; they crush those beneath them.
fromWuthering HeightsbyI’m now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society—be it country or town. A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.
fromWuthering HeightsbyRough as a saw-edge, and hard as whinstone! The less you meddle with him the better.
fromWuthering HeightsbyMy love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods; time will change it, I’m well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath—a source of little visible delight, but necessary.
fromWuthering HeightsbyI certainly esteem myself a steady, reasonable kind of body… I have undergone sharp discipline, which has taught me wisdom; and then, I have read more than you would fancy, Mr. Lockwood.
fromWuthering Heightsby