Yes,' said Catherine, stroking his long soft hair, 'if I could only get papa's consent, I'd spend half my time with you - Pretty Linton! I wish you were my brother.'
'And then you would like me as well as your father?' observed he more cheerfully. 'But papa says you would love me better than him, and all the world, if you were my wife-so I'd rather you were that!'
'No! I should never love anybody better than papa,' she returned gravely. 'And people hate their wives, sometimes; but not their sisters and brothers, and if you were the latter, you would live with us, and papa would be as fond of you, as he is of me.
Mr. Heathcliff, you're a cruel man, but you're not a fiend; and you won't, from mere malice, destroy, irrevocably, all my happiness.
Emily BrontëI cannot express it; but surely you and everybody have a notion that there is or should be an existence of yours beyond you.
Emily BrontëBut no brutality disgusted her: I suppose she has an innate admiration for it, if only her precious person were secure from injury!
Emily BrontëIt was a strange way of killing, not by inches, but by fractions of hairbreadths, to beguile me with the spectre of a hope, through eighteen years!
Emily BrontëYESTERDAY afternoon set in misty and cold. I had half a mind to spend it by my study fire, instead of wading through heath and mud to Wuthering Heights. On coming up from dinner, however, (N.B. - I dine between twelve and one o'clock; the housekeeper, a matronly lady, taken as a fixture along with the house, could not, or would not, comprehend my request that I might be served at five) - on mounting the stairs with this lazy intention, and stepping into the room, I saw a servant-girl on her knees surrounded by brushes and coal-scuttles, and raising an infernal dust as she extinguished the flames with heaps of cinders. This spectacle drove me back immediately; I took my hat, and, after a four-miles' walk, arrived at Heathcliff's garden-gate just in time to escape the first feathery flakes of a snow-shower.
Emily Brontëe se ama Edgar, e Edgar a ama a si. Parece tudo normal e fácil. Onde está a infelicidade?
- Aqui! e aqui! - respondeu Catherine, batendo com uma mão na testa e a outra no peito.
Bem, amo o chão que ele pisa e o ar que o rodeia e tudo quanto ele toca e tudo o que ele diz. Gosto das feições dele e de todas as suas acções;gosto dele todo. Pronto!
Emily Brontëmesmo que eu o derrubasse vinte vezes, isso não o tornaria menos bonito, nem a mim menos feio. (...)
- Um bom coração ajuda a ter um belo rosto, meu rapaz, mesmo que a pessoa seja monstruosa. Sabias que um coração empedernido é capaz de tornar a pessoa mais bonita num verdadeiro monstro.
Deixe-me a sós, que preciso pensar; enquanto penso, não sofro...
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