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… - Emily Brontë

I take so little interest in my daily life, that I hardly remember to eat and drink.

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?

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!