He Might As Well Plant An Oak

Worthless As Wither'd Weeds.

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.

He Leant His Two Elbows On His Knees, And His Chin On His Hands And Remained Rapt In Dumb Meditation. On My Inquiring The Subject Of His Thoughts, He Answered Gravely 'i'm Trying To Settle How I Shall Pay Hindley Back. I Don't Care How Long I Wait, If I Can Only Do It At Last. I Hope He Will Not Die Before I Do!' 'for Shame, Heathcliff!' Said I. 'it Is For God To Punish Wicked People; We Should Learn To Forgive.' 'no, God Won’t Have The Satisfaction That I Shall,' He Returned. 'i Only Wish I Knew The Best Way! Let Me Alone, And I'll Plan It Out: While I'm Thinking Of That I Don't Feel Pain.

The Winter Wind Is Loud And Wild, Come Close To Me, My Darling Child; Forsake Thy Books, And Mate Less Play; And, While The Night Is Gathering Grey, We'll Talk Its Pensive Hours Away.

He Wanted All To Lie In An Ecstasy Of Peace; I Wanted All To Sparkle And Dance In A Glorious Jubilee. I Said His Heaven Would Be Only Half Alive; And He Said Mine Would Be Drunk: I Said I Should Fall Asleep In His; And He Said He Could Not Breathe In Mine.