Emily Bronte Quotes

I grew up in a place called Malahide, which is by the water and is beautifully quiet, leafy, and part serene.

And gentle winds and waters near, make music to the lonely ear.

The castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake, the satin-green lawns rippled occasionally in a gentle breeze: June had arrived.

As our own peace of mind grows, so the atmosphere around us becomes more peaceful.

An English homegrey twilight poured On dewy pasture, dewy trees, Softer than sleepall things in order stored, A haunt of ancient Peace.

Where I live is about an hour and a half West of London. I live in the countryside... It's a classic little village, and it's idyllic in a lot of ways.

I like rural areas.

In quiet places, reason abounds.

The simple life on the farm was everything to me. Nothing was more relaxing after a long plane flight than to reach the winding driveway that led up to my house. The quiet of the night was more soothing than a sleeping pill.

I live sort of in the country and I like that. It's very quiet, it's beautiful.

In school, I could hear the leaves rustle and go on a journey.

If you actually hang out in the countryside, which I did, it's actually quite peaceful.

A voice of greeting from the wind was sent; The mists enfolded me with soft white arms; The birds did sing to lap me in content, The rivers wove their charms, And every little daisy in the grass Did look up in my face, and smile to see me pass!

Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly.

I stood tip-toe upon a little hill, The air was cooling, and so very still, That the sweet buds which with a modest pride Pull droopingly, in slanting curve aside, Their scantly leaved, and finely tapering stems, Had not yet lost those starry diadems Caught from the early sobbing of the morn.

Through the dancing poppies stole A breeze, most softly lulling to my soul.

And joy is everywhere; it is in the earth's green covering of grass; in the blue serenity of the sky.

The moon shines bright. In such a night as this. When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees and they did make no noise, in such a night.

Sweet life continues in the breeze, in the golden fields.

I paused to listen to the silence. My breath, crystallized as it passed my cheeks, drifted on a breeze gentler than a whisper. The wind vane pointed toward the South Pole. Presently the wind cups ceased their gentle turning as the cold killed the breeze. My frozen breath hung like a cloud overhead. The day was dying, the night was being born-but with great peace. Here were the imponderable processes and forces of the cosmos, harmonious and soundless. Harmony, that was it!

The streams with softest sound are flowing, The grass you almost hear it growing, You hear it now, if e'er you can.

No more words. In the name of this place we drink in with our breathing, stay quiet like a flower. So the nightbirds will start singing.

It was not that the jagged precipices were lofty, that the encircling woods were the dimmest shade, or that the waters were profoundly deep; but that over all, rocks, wood, and water, brooded the spirit of repose, and the silent energy of nature stirred the soul to its inmost depths.

My breathing begins to slow. The tension in my muscles starts to relax. Then, a click in the headphones. A slow breath of air. I open my eyes to bright moonlight. And Hannah, with warmth. Thank you.