You Have Been Compelled To Cultivate Your

Joseph Is The Wearisomest And Self-righteous Pharisee Who Ever Ransacked The Bible To Rake The Promises To Himself And Fling The Curses On His Neighbor.

The Lord Help Us!' He Soliloquised In An Undertone Of Peevish Displeasure, While Relieving Me Of My Horse: Looking, Meantime, In My Face So Sourly That I Charitably Conjectured He Must Have Need Of Divine Aid To Digest His Dinner, And His Pious Ejaculation Had No Reference To My Unexpected Advent.

I'm Wearying To Escape Into That Glorious World, And To Be Always There; Not Seeing It Dimly Through Tears, And Yearning For It Through The Walls Of An Aching Heart; But Really With It, And In It.

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.

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.