Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.

You loved me-then what right had you to leave me? What right-answer me-for the poor fancy you felt for Linton? Because misery and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will, did it. I have not broken your heart- you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine." ~Heathcliff

A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.

Oh, for the time when I shall sleep Without identity.

Hush, my darling! Hush, hush, Catherine! I'll stay. If he shot me so, I'd expire with a blessing on my lips.

The entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.

She burned too bright for this world.