Cathy, This Lamb Of Yours Threatens Like

He Turned, As He Spoke, A Peculiar Look In Her Direction, A Look Of Hatred Unless He Has A Most Perverse Set Of Facial Muscles That Will Not, Like Those Of Other People, Interpret The Language Of His Soul.

Look On The Grave Where Thou Must Sleep Thy Last, And Strongest Foe; It Is Endurance Not To Weep, If That Repose Seem Woe.

You Must Forgive Me, For I Struggled Only For You.

Alas, For The Effects Of Bad Tea And Bad Temper!

I Shouldn't Care What You Suffered. I Care Nothing For Your Sufferings. Why Shouldn't You Suffer? I Do! Will You Forget Me? Will You Be Happy When I Am In The Earth? Will You Say Twenty Years Hence, "that's The Grave Of Catherine Earnshaw? I Loved Her Long Ago, And Was Wretched To Lose Her; But It Is Past. I've Loved Many Others Since: My Children Are Dearer To Me Than She Was; And, At Death, I Shall Not Rejoice That I Am Going To Her: I Shall Be Sorry That I Must Leave Them!" Will You Say So, Heathcliff?