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
When a product is made, everyone hopes for the best. Whether it could have been better or not is more of an afterthought.
Sakshi Tanwar
On the Internet, you can form a community without having to go through the trouble of meeting anyone.
Ian_Jack
Any patch of sunlight in a wood will show you something about the sun which you could never get from reading books on astronomy. These pure and spontaneous pleasures are ‘patches of Godlight’ in the woods of our experience.
C. S. Lewis
When you use your faith, it gives you energy. It gives you the ability to be able to see beyond where you are right now and see into the future.
Victoria Osteen
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
