I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death; and flung it back to me. People feel with their hearts, Ellen, and since he has destroyed mine, I have not power to feel for him.
wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers, for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote reflects on the peacefulness of death, questioning the turmoil of life compared to the tranquility of eternal rest.
In this quote, Emily Bronte contemplates the nature of death and the peace that follows it, suggesting that the subconscious experiences of those who have passed away, referred to as 'unquiet slumbers,' may seem implausible in contrast to the calmness of their eternal repose. It invites readers to reflect on the idea that perhaps our struggles and worries in life are insignificant when faced with the tranquility of death, challenging the reader to consider what happens after life and whether our resting state is truly as tumultuous as we sometimes imagine.
Themes
In practice
Example use cases
In a eulogy to remind attendees of the serenity of those we have lost.
More from Emily Bronte
All quotes βI ran to the children's room: their door was ajar, I saw they had never laid down, though it was past midnight; but they were calmer, and did not need me to console them. The little souls were comforting each other with better thoughts than I could have hit on: no parson in the world ever pictured heaven so beautifully as they did, in their innocent talk; and, while I sobbed, and listened. I could not help wishing we were all there safe together.
Vain are the thousand creeds That move men's hearts, unutterably vain; Worthless as withered weeds, Or idlest froth amid the boundless main.
Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
He had been content with daily labour and rough animal enjoyments, 'till Catherine crossed his path. Shame at her scorn, and hope of her approval, were his first prompts to higher pursuits; and, instead of guarding him from one and winning him to the other, his endeavors to raise himself had produced just the contrary result.
And, even yet, I dare not let it languish, Dare not indulge in memory's rapturous pain; Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish, How could I seek the empty world again?
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