Thoughts Are Tyrants That Return Again And

A Good Heart Will Help You To A Bonny Face, My Lad And A Bad One Will Turn The Bonniest Into Something Worse Than Ugly.

The Intense Horror Of Nightmare Came Over Me: I Tried To Draw Back My Arm, But The Hand Clung To It, And A Most Melancholy Voice Sobbed, 'let Me In - Let Me In!' 'who Are You?' I Asked, Struggling, Meanwhile, To Disengage Myself. 'catherine Linton,' It Replied, Shiveringly (why Did I Think Of Linton? I Had Read Earnshaw Twenty Times For Linton) - 'i'm Come Home: I'd Lost My Way On The Moor!' As It Spoke, I Discerned, Obscurely, A Child's Face Looking Through The Window.

How Cruel, Your Veins Are Full Of Ice-water And Mine Are Boiling

Cold Inthe Earthand The Deepsnow Piled Abovethee, Far, Far, Removed, Cold In The Dreary Grave! Have I Forgot, My Only Love, To Love Thee, Severed At Last Bytime's All-serving Wave?

You're Hard To Please: So Many Friends And So Few Cares, And Can't Make Yourself Content.