I'm so co-o-old!

Pra sempre eu vou chorar quando ler Whuthering Heights.

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

"(...) my great thought of living is himself. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it."

"(...) I am Heathcliff. He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being."

E depois, na última conversa que eles têm antes da morte dela:

"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. So much the worse for me, that I am strong. Do I want to live? What kind of living will it be when you - oh God! would you like to live with your soul in the grave?"