There were four of them. Emily, the other one, the other one, and Paris. The first three wrote novels. Paris just sort of hung around the house being fabulous. Wuthering Heights is a great book. It's wuthering wonderful, is what it is. There may be no gloomier book in literature, which is why Paris, who in addition to being fabulous was the literary critic of the family, refused to keep a copy on the bookshelf of the family's SUV. She said it made her claustrophobic. The family patriarch, Heathcliff "Denver" Bronte, always liked Paris the best. He called his other three daughters "ink-stained wretches" and never invited them to his birthday parties, thus depriving them of the opportunity to meet George Hamilton. Rod Stewart was a close family friend. He liked to kick the old soccer ball around and one time he kicked the old soccer ball and it flew through an open window and clobbered Emily Bronte, who was busy at work on some novel or other, right on the noggin. This incident became part of the family lore but unfortunately never made it into any of the books written by the Bronte Sisters, which just goes to show you that their fiction is not autobiographical. No one in any of the Bronte Sisters' novels gets clocked in the gourd by a soccer ball, so far as we know. On the other hand, Paris talks about the incident at great length in her memoir, "My Ass for the World to Kiss."