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

Honest people don't hide their deeds.

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

I never told my love vocally still.

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

Oh, Cathy! Oh, my life! how can I bear it?" was the first sentence he uttered, in a tone that did not seek to disguise his despair. And now he stared at her so earnestly that I thought the very intensity of his gaze would bring tears into his eyes; but they burned with anguish: they did not melt.

He had the hypocrisy to represent a mourner: and previous to following with Hareton, he lifted the unfortunate child on to the table and muttered, with peculiar gusto, 'Now, my bonny lad, you are mine! And we'll see if one tree won't grow as crooked as another, with the same wind to twist it!