Sweet Love Of Youth, Forgive, If I

No Coward Soul Is Mine, No Trembler In The World's Storm-troubled Sphere.

Heaven Did Not Seem To Be My Home; And I Broke My Heart With Weeping To Come Back To Earth; And The Angels Were So Angry That They Flung Me Out Into The Middle Of The Heath On The Top Of Wuthering Heights; Where I Woke Sobbing For Joy.

I Will Walk Where My Own Nature Would Be Leading.

The Tyrant Grinds Down His Slaves And They Don't Turn Against Him, They Crush Those Beneath Them.

My Love For Heathcliff Resembles The Eternal Rocks Beneath: A Source Of Little Visible Delight, But Necessary.