Emily Bronte Quotes
The intense horror of nightmare came over me: I tried to draw back my arm, but the hand clung to it, and a most melancholy voice sobbed, 'Let me in - let me in!' 'Who are you?' I asked, struggling, meanwhile, to disengage myself. 'Catherine Linton,' it replied, shiveringly (why did I think of LINTON? I had read EARNSHAW twenty times for Linton) - 'I'm come home: I'd lost my way on the moor!' As it spoke, I discerned, obscurely, a child's face looking through the window.
Emily Bronte
Quotes to Explore
I'd love to do a movie where the monster is human, where the issue is not otherworldly, or horror or science fiction.
J. J. Abrams
If you love attention and have a pretty decent voice, that's a pretty good combination.
Zara Larsson
Melancholy, indeed, should be diverted by every means but drinking.
Samuel Johnson
Along with 'Free,' where I sing quite a bit, there are additional songs on 'Skin' where you can hear my voice in the background - lots of 'oohs' and 'aahs.' But more often than not, I use my vocals to prompt other rappers and singers to feel calmer, better, bolder.
Flume
High fashion has become representative of stability in unstable places; that allows you to have a voice in the world stage.
Hailey Gates
We in Congress stand by Israel. In Congress, we speak with one voice on the subject of Israel.
Nancy Pelosi
I was going to sip on a diet soda, but a little voice convinced me I needed the extra calcium from a cup of hot chocolate.
Cathy Guisewite
I think that, for me, Superman just seemed to make a lot of sense to me. After doing 'Watchmen,' it was – you know that thing, you've got to know the rules before you can break them? There was something about that in making 'Watchmen.'
Zack Snyder
I don't want to be the cliche American Idol dude. I want to be different, you know - that's the whole goal, me and music. It's about being yourself and being unique.
Paul McDonald
The intense horror of nightmare came over me: I tried to draw back my arm, but the hand clung to it, and a most melancholy voice sobbed, 'Let me in - let me in!' 'Who are you?' I asked, struggling, meanwhile, to disengage myself. 'Catherine Linton,' it replied, shiveringly (why did I think of LINTON? I had read EARNSHAW twenty times for Linton) - 'I'm come home: I'd lost my way on the moor!' As it spoke, I discerned, obscurely, a child's face looking through the window.
Emily Bronte
