I Never Told My Love Vocally Still.

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!

My Love For Heathcliff Resembles The Eternal Rocks Beneath: A Source Of Little Visible Delight, But Necessary.

Yet I Was A Fool To Fancy For A Moment That She Valued Edgar Linton's Attachment More Than Mine -- If He Love With All The Powers Of His Puny Being, He Couldn't Love As Much In Eighty Years, As I Could In A Day. And Catherine Has A Heart As Deep As I Have; The Sea Could Be As Readily Contained In That Horse-trough, As Her Whole Affection Be Monopolized By Him -- Tush! He Is Scarcely A Degree Dearer To Her Than Her Dog, Or Her Horse -- It Is Not In Him To Be Loved Like Me, How Can She Love In Him What He Has Not?

It Was Not The Thorn Bending To The Honeysuckles, But The Honeysuckles Embracing The Thorn.

But There's This One Difference: One Is Gold Put To The Use Of Paving-stones, And The Other Is Tin Polished To Ape A Service Of Silver. Mine Has Nothing Valuable About It; Yet I Shall Have The Merit Of Making It Go As Far As Such Poor Stuff Can Go. His Had First-rate Qualities, And They Are Lost, Rendered Worst Than Unavailing.