Thoughts Are Tyrants That Return Again And

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?

Honest People Don't Hide Their Deeds.

Tis Moonlight, Summer Moonlight, All Soft And Still And Fair; The Solemn Hour Of Midnight Breathes Sweet Thoughts Everywhere, But Most Where Trees Are Sending Their Breezy Boughs On High, Or Stooping Low Are Lending A Shelter From The Sky. And There In Those Wild Bowers A Lovely Form Is Laid; Green Grass And Dew-steeped Flowers Wave Gently Round Her Head.

If I Were In Heaven, Nelly, I Should Be Extremely Miserable." "because You Are Not Fit To Go There," I Answered. "all Sinners Would Be Miserable In Heaven.

I've No More Business To Marry Edgar Linton Than I Have To Be In Heaven And If The Wicked Man In There Had Not Brought Heathcliff So Low I Shouldn't Have Thought Of It. It Would Degrade Me To Marry Heathcliff Now So He Shall Never Know How I Love Him And That Not Because He's Handsome Nelly But Because He's More Myself Than I Am. Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of His And Mine Are The Same And Linton's Is As Different As A Moonbeam From Lightning Or Frost From Fire.