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.
The night is darkening round me, _x000D_ The wild winds coldly blow; _x000D_ But a tyrant spell has bound me _x000D_ And I cannot, cannot go. _x000D_ The giant trees are bending _x000D_ Their bare boughs weighed with snow; _x000D_ The storm is fast descending, _x000D_ And yet I cannot go. _x000D_ Clouds beyond clouds above me, _x000D_ Wastes beyond wastes below; _x000D_ But nothing drear can move me; _x000D_ I will not, cannot go.
Interpretation
What this quote means
This quote expresses a struggle against overwhelming circumstances and an inner resolve to remain steadfast despite adversity.
In this quote, Emily Bronte illustrates a powerful internal conflict against the backdrop of a fierce and unforgiving natural landscape. The speaker feels trapped by a 'tyrant spell', symbolizing the weight of external pressures and emotional burdens that bind them, even as the harsh elements rage around them. Despite the relentless storm and the darkening night, there is a profound declaration of resilience—an unwavering refusal to succumb to despair. This highlights the human spirit's strength in the face of challenges, suggesting that one's willpower can prevail even when circumstances seem insurmountable.
Themes
In practice
Example use cases
In a motivational speech about overcoming personal struggles.
More from Emily Bronte
All quotes →I 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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