My heart is a cathedral. Widows, ghosts and lovers sit and sing in the dark, arched marrow of me. ― Segovia Amil, Ophelia Wears Black. (CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform; 1 edition, December 11, 2015)
Sometimes I have the strangest feeling about you. Especially when you are near me as you are now. It feels as though I had a string tied here under my left rib where my heart is, tightly knotted to you in a similar fashion. And when you go, with all that distance between us, I… Continue reading Charlotte Brontë
It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn. ― Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights. (Thomas Cautley Newby December 1847)
God has mercifully ordered that the human brain works slowly; first the blow, hours afterwards the bruise. ― Walter de la Mare, The Return. (Dover Publications; First Thus edition, July 18, 1997) Originally ublished 1910.
She herself is a haunted house. She does not possess herself; her ancestors sometimes come and peer out of the windows of her eyes and that is very frightening. She has the mysterious solitude of ambiguous states; she hovers in a no-man’s land between life and death, sleeping and waking. — Angela Carter, from “The… Continue reading Angela Carter
I’ll be as dirty as I please, and I like to be dirty, and I will be dirty! — Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights. (Thomas Cautley Newby December 1847)
It is not good for man to cherish a solitary ambition. Unless there be those around him, by whose example he may regulate himself, his thoughts, desires, and hopes will become extravagant, and he the semblance, perhaps the reality, of a madman. ― Nathaniel Hawthorne, from “The Prophetic Pictures,” Twice-Told Tales. (Palala Press September 21,… Continue reading Nathaniel Hawthorne