Every Leaf Speaks Bliss To Me, Fluttering

Terror Made Me Cruel.

That Is How I'm Loved! Well, Never Mind. That Is Not My Heathcliff. I Shall Love Mine Yet; And Take Him With Me: He's In My Soul.

I Have No Pity! I Have No Pity! The More Worms Writhe, The More I Yearn To Crush Out Their Entrails! It Is A Moral Teething, And I Grind With Greater Energy, In Proportion To The Increase Of Pain.

I Lingered Round Them, Under That Benign Sky; Watched The Moths Fluttering Among The Heath And Hare-bells; Listened To The Soft Wind Breathing Through The Grass; And Wondered How Anyone Could Ever Imagine Unquiet Slumbers For The Sleepers In That Quiet Earth.

I Wish I Were A Girl Again, Half-savage And Hardy, And Free.