No Coward Soul Is Mine, No Trembler

He Had Been Content With Daily Labour And Rough Animal Enjoyments, 'till Catherine Crossed His Path. Shame At Her Scorn, And Hope Of Her Approval, Were His First Prompts To Higher Pursuits; And, Instead Of Guarding Him From One And Winning Him To The Other, His Endeavors To Raise Himself Had Produced Just The Contrary Result.

Oh, Cathy! Oh, My Life! How Can I Bear It?" Was The First Sentence He Uttered, In A Tone That Did Not Seek To Disguise His Despair. And Now He Stared At Her So Earnestly That I Thought The Very Intensity Of His Gaze Would Bring Tears Into His Eyes; But They Burned With Anguish: They Did Not Melt.

I'm Happiest When Most Away I Can Bear My Soul From Its Home Of Clay On A Windy Night When The Moon Is Bright And The Eye Can Wander Through Worlds Of Light— When I Am Not And None Beside— Nor Earth Nor Sea Nor Cloudless Sky— But Only Spirit Wandering Wide Through Infinite Immensity.

Proud People Breed Sad Sorrows For Themselves.

Oh, I'm Burning! I Wish I Were Out Of Doors! I Wish I Were A Girl Again, Half Savage And Hardy, And Free... And Laughing At Injuries, Not Maddening Under Them! Why Am I So Changed?