Quotes:
If he loved with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn’t love as much in eighty years as I could in a day.
‘She abandoned them under a delusion,’ he answered; ‘picturing in me a hero of romance, and expecting unlimited indulgences from my chivalrous devotion.
Why did you betray your own heart, Cathy? I have not one word of comfort. You deserve this. You have killed yourself.
I love my murderer—but yours! How can I?’
I noticed on that occasion how much selfishness there is even in a love like Mr. Linton’s,
‘Hush, hush! He’s a human being,’
praying like a Methodist:
Yet, who knows how long you’ll be a stranger? You’re too young to rest always contented, living by yourself; and I some way fancy no one could see Catherine Linton and not love her.
‘It is a poor conclusion, is it not?’ he observed, having brooded awhile on the scene he had just witnessed: ‘an absurd termination to my violent exertions? I get levers and mattocks to demolish the two houses, and train myself to be capable of working like Hercules, and when everything is ready and in my power, I find the will to lift a slate off either roof has vanished! My old enemies have not beaten me; now would be the precise time to revenge myself on their representatives: I could do it; and none could hinder me. But where is the use? I don’t care for striking: I can’t take the trouble to raise my hand!
I have lost the faculty of enjoying their destruction, and I am too idle to destroy for nothing.
and, as he had no surname, and we could not tell his age, we were obliged to content ourselves with the single word, ‘Heathcliff.’ That came true: we were. If you enter the kirkyard, you’ll read, on his headstone, only that, and the date of his death.
I’ve done no injustice, and I repent of nothing. I’m too happy; and yet I’m not happy enough. My soul’s bliss kills my body, but does not satisfy itself.’
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