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?

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

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.

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

Honest people don't hide their deeds.

If I were in heaven, Nelly, I should be extremely miserable." "Because you are not fit to go there," I answered. "All sinners would be miserable in heaven.

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