Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of, His

Earnsha Was Not To Be Civilized With A Wish, And My Young Lady Was No Philosopher, And No Paragon Of Patience; But Both Their Minds Tending To The Same Point - One Loving And Desiring To Esteem, And The Other Loving And Desiring To Be Esteemed - They Contrived In The End To Reach It.

The Lord Help Us!' He Soliloquised In An Undertone Of Peevish Displeasure, While Relieving Me Of My Horse: Looking, Meantime, In My Face So Sourly That I Charitably Conjectured He Must Have Need Of Divine Aid To Digest His Dinner, And His Pious Ejaculation Had No Reference To My Unexpected Advent.

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.

It Is For God To Punish Wicked People; We Should Learn To Forgive.

Yet I Was A Fool To Fancy For A Moment That She Valued Edgar Linton's Attachment More Than Mine -- If He Love With All The Powers Of His Puny Being, He Couldn't Love As Much In Eighty Years, As I Could In A Day. And Catherine Has A Heart As Deep As I Have; The Sea Could Be As Readily Contained In That Horse-trough, As Her Whole Affection Be Monopolized By Him -- Tush! He Is Scarcely A Degree Dearer To Her Than Her Dog, Or Her Horse -- It Is Not In Him To Be Loved Like Me, How Can She Love In Him What He Has Not?