“I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death; and flung it back to me. People feel with their hearts, Ellen, and since he has destroyed mine, I have not power to feel for him.”

I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free… Why am I so changed? I’m sure I should be myself were I once among the heather on those hills.

I understand that most ladies tend to prefer lap dogs…. Perhaps I am an exception.

He’ll love and hate equally under cover, and esteem it a species of impertinence to loved or hated again.

By this curious turn of disposition I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness; how undeserved, I alone can appreciate.

Any relic of the dead is precious, if they were valued living.

The entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.

Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.

Good words,” I replied. “But deeds must prove it also; and after he is well, remember you don’t forget resolutions formed in the hour of fear.

Be with me always – take any form – drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul!

Heaven did not seem to be my home; and I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth; and the angels were so angry that they flung me out into the middle of the heath on the top of Wuthering Heights; where I woke sobbing for joy.

Nonsense, do you imagine he has thought as much of you as you have of him?

I wish I were a girl again, half-savage and hardy, and free.

I cannot love thee; thou ‘rt worse than thy brother. Go, say thy prayers, child, and ask God’s pardon. I doubt thy mother and I must rue that we ever reared thee!

A messenger of Hope comes every night to me, And offers for short life, eternal liberty.

You have left me so long to struggle against death, alone, that I feel and see only death! I feel like death!

We must be for ourselves in the long run; the mild and generous are only more justly selfish than the domineering.

If I should die, I have left no immortal work behind me — nothing to make my friends proud of my memory — but I have loved the principle of beauty in all things, and if I had had time I would have made myself remembered.

Dead men will tell you, never stand in the way of a determined woman.

For love, even god was willing to die.

Wealth, a friend, a wife, and a kingdom may be regained; but this body when lost may never be acquired again.

Now I’m an old Christmas tree, the roots of which have died. They just come along and while the little needles fall off me replace them with medallions.

When a man marries, dies, or turns Hindu, his best friends hear no more of him.

A man is not from where he is born, but where he chooses to die.

Flags are bits of colored cloth used first to shrinkwrap people’s brains and then as ceremonial shrouds to bury the dead.