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.
Emily BronteRead
Any relic of the dead is precious, if they were valued living.
Interpretation
What this quote means
The memories and belongings of those who have passed away hold significant value if they were cherished during their lives.
Emily Bronte's quote suggests that items or memories associated with deceased individuals become precious artifacts, especially when those individuals were held in high regard while they were alive. It speaks to the profound impact that relationships and memories have on our lives, highlighting how the worth of such relics is intrinsically tied to the love and respect we had for those individuals during their existence.
Themes
RelicMemoriesValueDeathAppreciation
In practice
Example use cases
In a speech honoring a deceased family member, one might say, 'As Emily Bronte expressed, any relic of the dead is precious, reminding us of the love we shared.'
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.
Emily BronteRead
Vain are the thousand creeds That move men's hearts, unutterably vain; Worthless as withered weeds, Or idlest froth amid the boundless main.
Emily BronteRead
Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
Emily BronteRead
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.
Emily BronteRead
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?
Emily BronteRead
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And what does it matter when light enters the room where a child sleeps and the waking mother, opening her eyes, wishes more than anything to be unwakened by what she cannot name?
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