I am now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town. A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.

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.

I take so little interest in my daily life, that I hardly remember to eat and drink.

The old church tower and garden wall Are black with autumn rain And dreary winds foreboding call The darkness down again

I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow.

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.

I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death; and flung it back to me.