Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Emily Brontë
Riches I hold in light esteem;
And Love I laugh to scorn;
And lust of fame was but a dream
That vanished with the morn:
And if I pray, the only prayer
That moves my lips for me
Is, 'Leave the heart that now I bear,
And give me liberty!'
Yes, as my swift days near their goal,
'Tis all that I implore;
In life and death, a chainless soul,
With courage to endure.
The Old Stoic was written by Emily Brontë.