It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn. - Emily Brontë

Still, as I mused, the naked room, The alien firelight died away;
And from the midst of cheerless gloom I passed to bright, unclouded day.

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!...Be with me always — take any form — drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find 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- you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine."
~Heathcliff