As different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire. - Emily Brontë

Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now? Since passion may not fire thee Shall Nature cease to bow? Thy mind is ever moving In regions dark to thee; Recall its useless roving — Come back and dwell with me —

Mi cariño a Heathcliff es como son las rocas del fondo de la tierra, que permanecen eternamente iguales sin cambiar jamás. Es un afecto del que no puedo prescindir.

And, even yet, I dare not let it languish,
Dare not indulge in memory’s rapturous pain;
Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish,
How could I seek the empty world again?