“Cold in the earth and the deeps now piled above thee, 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?”

I’ll be as dirty as I please, and I like to be dirty, and I will be dirty!

What kind of living will it be when you – Oh, God! Would you like to live with your soul in the grave?

Though earth and man were gone, And suns and universes ceased to be, And Thou wert left alone, Every existence would exist in Thee.

I have fled my country and gone to the heather.

I have dreamed in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind.

I will walk where my own nature would be leading.

How cruel, your veins are full of ice-water and mine are boiling.

You must forgive me, for I struggled only for you.

It is hard to forgive, and to look at those eyes, and feel those wasted hands,’ he answered. ‘Kiss me again; and don’t let me see your eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer—but yours! How can I?

That is how I’m loved! Well, never mind. That is not my Heathcliff. I shall love mine yet; and take him with me: he’s in my soul.

A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.

The night is darkening round me, The wild winds coldly blow; But a tyrant spell has bound me, And I cannot, cannot go.

Wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers, for the sleepers in that quiet earth.

Look on the grave where thou must sleep Thy last, and strongest foe; It is endurance not to weep, If that repose seem woe.

Your presence is a moral poison that would contaminate the most virtuous.

It is astonishing how sociable I feel myself compared with him.

And she is going to dance, dance hungry, dance full, dance each cold astonishing moment, now when she is young and again when she is old.

I love how British guys dress for the cold.

It’s january, it’s cold and I search the sky for summer like I always do.

Cold hearts cannot serve warm love.

When the air begins to turn colder, a warmth grows in my core that says – it’s time to start new.

Cold sober, I find myself absolutely fascinating.

The virtuous soul that is alone and without a master is like a long lone burning coal; it will grow colder rather than hotter.

I was always accused of being cold and unfeeling. It was because I was intimidated about touching people.