Look On The Grave Where Thou Must

I Shall Smile When Wreaths Of Snow Blossom Where The Rose Should Grow.

It Was Not The Thorn Bending To The Honeysuckles, But The Honeysuckles Embracing The Thorn.

Hush, My Darling! Hush, Hush, Catherine! I'll Stay. If He Shot Me So, I'd Expire With A Blessing On My Lips.

He Might As Well Plant An Oak In A Flowerpot, And Expect It To Thrive, As Imagine He Can Restore Her To Vigour In The Soil Of His Shallow Cares!

Nelly, I Am Heathcliff! He's Always, Always In My Mind: Not As A Pleasure, Any More Than I Am Always A Pleasure To Myself, But As My Own Being.