CHAPTER 3 ("LET ME IN!

")

I muttered, knocking my knuckles through the glass, and stretching an arm out to seize
the importunate branch; instead of which, my fingers closed on the fingers of a little,
ice-cold hand! The intense horror of nightmare came over me: I tried to draw back my
arm, but the hand clung to it, and a most melancholy voice sobbed, 'Let me in—let me
in!' 'Who are you?' I asked, struggling, meanwhile, to disengage myself. 'Catherine
Linton,' it replied, shiveringly (why did I think of Linton? I had readEarnshaw twenty
times for Linton) 'I'm come home: I'd lost my way on the moor!' As it spoke, I discerned,
obscurely, a child's face looking through the window. Terror made me cruel; and,
finding it useless to attempt shaking the creature off, I pulled its wrist on to the broken
pane, and rubbed it to and fro till the blood ran down and soaked the bedclothes: still it
wailed, 'Let me in!' and maintained its tenacious gripe, almost maddening me with fear.
'How can I!' I said at length. 'Let me go, if you want me to let you in!' The fingers
relaxed, I snatched mine through the hole, hurriedly piled the books up in a pyramid
against it, and stopped my ears to exclude the lamentable prayer. I seemed to keep them
closed above a quarter of an hour; yet, the instant I listened again, there was the doleful
cry moaning on! 'Begone!' I shouted. 'I'll never let you in, not if you beg for twenty
years.' 'It is twenty years,' mourned the voice: 'twenty years. I've been a waif for twenty
years!'

CHAPTER 7 ("GOD WON’T HAVE THE SATISFACTION THAT I SHALL")

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.'

CHAPTER 9 ("IT WOULD DEGRADE ME TO MARRY HEATHCLIFF")

'This is nothing,' cried she: 'I was only going to say that 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. That will do to explain my secret, as well as the
other. I've no more business to marry Edgar Linton than I have to be in heaven; and if
the wicked man in there had not brought Heathcliff so low, I shouldn't have thought of
it. It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now; so he shall never know how I love him:
and that, not because he's handsome, Nelly, but because he's more myself than I am.
Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same; and Linton's is as different
as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire.'

CHAPTER 9 ("I AM HEATHCLIFF!")

'I think that's the worst motive you've given yet for being the wife of young Linton.'

'It is not,' retorted she; 'it is the best! The others were the satisfaction of my whims: and
for Edgar's sake, too, to satisfy him. This is for the sake of one who comprehends in his
person my feelings to Edgar and myself. I cannot express it; but surely you and
everybody have a notion that there is or should be an existence of yours beyond you.
What were the use of my creation, if I were entirely contained here? My great miseries in
this world have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and felt each from the
beginning: my great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, and heremained, 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.—My love for
Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter
changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source
of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I amHeathcliff! 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. So don't talk of our separation again: it is impracticable; and—'

CHAPTER 15 ("I LOVE  MY MURDERER")

'You teach me now how cruel you've been—cruel and false. Why did you despise
me? Why did you betray your own heart, Cathy? I have not one word of comfort. You
deserve this. You have killed yourself. Yes, you may kiss me, and cry; and wring out my
kisses and tears: they'll blight you—they'll damn you. 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—youhave 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?'

'Let me alone. Let me alone,' sobbed Catherine. 'If I’ve done wrong, I'm dying for it. It is
enough! You left me too: but I won't upbraid you! I forgive you. Forgive me!'

'It is hard to forgive, and to look at those eyes, and feel those wasted hands,' he
answered. 'Kiss me again; and don’t let me see your eyes! I forgive what you have done
to me. I love my murderer—butyours! How can I?'
CHAPTER 16 ("I CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT MY SOUL!")

'May she wake in torment!' he cried, with frightful vehemence, stamping his foot, and
groaning in a sudden paroxysm of ungovernable passion. 'Why, she's a liar to the end!
Where is she? Not there—not in heaven—not perished—where? Oh! you said you cared
nothing for my sufferings! And I pray one prayer—I repeat it till my tongue stiffens—
Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living; you said I killed you—
haunt me, then! The murdered do haunt their murderers, I believe. I know that
ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad!
only donot leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable!
I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!'

CHAPTER 17 ("WE'LL SEE IF ONE TREE WON'T GROW AS CROOKED AS ANOTHER")

He had the hypocrisy to represent a mourner: and previous to following with Hareton,
he lifted the unfortunate child on to the table and muttered, with peculiar gusto, 'Now,
my bonny lad, you aremine! And we'll see if one tree won't grow as crooked as another,
with the same wind to twist it!'

CHAPTER 33 ("I AM SURROUNDED WITH HER IMAGE!")

"... for what is not connected with her to me? and what does not recall her? I cannot look
down to this floor, but her features are shaped in the flags! In every cloud, in every tree
—filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object by day—I am
surrounded with her image! The most ordinary faces of men and women—my own
features—mock me with a resemblance. The entire world is a dreadful collection of
memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her!"

CHAPTER 34 ("IMAGINE UNQUIET SLUMBERS FOR THE SLEEPERS IN THAT QUIET

EARTH")

I sought, and soon discovered, the three headstones on the slope next the moor: the
middle one grey, and half buried in the heath; Edgar Linton's only harmonised by the
turf and moss creeping up its foot; Heathcliff's still bare.

I lingered round them, under that benign sky: watched the moths fluttering among the
heath and harebells, listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass, and
wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that
quiet earth.