“In secret pleasure — secret tears, This changeful life has slipped away.”

I have to remind myself to breathe — almost to remind my heart to beat!

Thoughts are tyrants that return again and again to torment us.

Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now?

Time brought resignation and a melancholy sweeter than common joy.

The old church tower and garden wall Are black with autumn rain And dreary winds foreboding call The darkness down again.

My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary.

Sweet Love of youth, forgive, if I forget thee, While the world’s tide is bearing me along; Sterner desires and darker hopes beset me, Hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee wrong.

May you not rest, as long as I am living. You said I killed you – haunt me, then.

She burned too bright for this world.

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

I pray every night that I may live after him; because I would rather be miserable than that he should be — that proves I love him better than myself.

And, even yet, I dare not let it languish, Dare not indulge in memory’s rapturous pain; Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish, How could I seek the empty world again?

I am now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town. A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.

If I could I would always work in silence and obscurity, and let my efforts be known by their results.

You know that I could as soon forget you as my existence!

I cannot express it: but surely you and everybody have a notion that there is, or should be, an existence of yours beyond you.