How Strange! I Thought, Though Everybody Hated

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 Read Earnshaw 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.

By This Curious Turn Of Disposition I Have Gained The Reputation Of Deliberate Heartlessness; How Undeserved, I Alone Can Appreciate.

Earnsha Was Not To Be Civilized With A Wish, And My Young Lady Was No Philosopher, And No Paragon Of Patience; But Both Their Minds Tending To The Same Point - One Loving And Desiring To Esteem, And The Other Loving And Desiring To Be Esteemed - They Contrived In The End To Reach It.

And There You See The Distinction Between Our Feelings: Had He Been In My Place, And I In His, Though I Hated Him With A Hatred That Turned My Life To Gall, I Never Would Have Raised A Hand Against Him. You May Look Incredulous, If You Please! I Never Would Have Banished Him From Her Society As Long As She Desired His. The Moment Her Regard Ceased, I Would Have Torn His Heart Out And Drank His Blood! But, Till Then - If You Don't Believe Me, You Don't Know Me - Til Then, I Would Have Died By Inches Before I Touched A Single Hair On His Head!

He'll Love And Hate Equally Under Cover, And Esteem It A Species Of Impertinence To Loved Or Hated Again.