Treachery and violence are spears pointed at both ends; they wound those who resort to them worse than their enemies.

The tyrant grinds down his slaves and they don't turn against him, they crush those beneath them.

He... was attached by ties stronger than reason could break -- chains, forged by habit, which it would be cruel to attempt to loosen.

Honest people don't hide their deeds.

But you might as well bid a man struggling in the water, rest within arm's length of the shore! I must reach it first, and then I'll rest.

Alas, for the effects of bad tea and bad temper!

The intense horror of nightmare came over me: I tried to draw back my arm, but the hand clung to it, and a most melancholy voice sobbed, 'Let me in - let me in!' 'Who are you?' I asked, struggling, meanwhile, to disengage myself. 'Catherine Linton,' it replied, shiveringly (why did I think of LINTON? I had read EARNSHAW twenty times for Linton) - 'I'm come home: I'd lost my way on the moor!' As it spoke, I discerned, obscurely, a child's face looking through the window.