Any Relic Of The Dead Is Precious,

The Night Is Darkening Round Me, The Wild Winds Coldly Blow; But A Tyrant Spell Has Bound Me And I Cannot, Cannot Go. The Giant Trees Are Bending Their Bare Boughs Weighed With Snow; The Storm Is Fast Descending, And Yet I Cannot Go. Clouds Beyond Clouds Above Me, Wastes Beyond Wastes Below; But Nothing Drear Can Move Me; I Will Not, Cannot Go.

And, Even Yet, I Dare Not Let It Languish, Dare Not Indulge In Memory's Rapturous Pain; Once Drinking Deep Of That Divinest Anguish, How Could I Seek The Empty World Again?

You Know, I've Had A Bitter, Hard Life Since I Last Heard Your Voice And If I've Survived It's All Because Of You.

My Love For Linton Is Like The Foliage In The Woods. Time Will Changeit,i'mwellaware, Aswinterchangesthetrees. My Love For Heathcliff Resembles The Eternal Rocks Beneatha Source Of Little Visible Delight But Necessary. Nelly, I Am Heathcliff.

Terror Made Me Cruel; And Finding It Useless To Attempt Shaking The Creature Off, I Pulled Its Wrist On To The Broken Pane, And Rubbed It To And Fro Till The Blood Ran Down And Soaked The Bedclothes.