“I muttered, knocking my knuckles through the glass, and stretching an arm out to seize the importunate branch; instead of which, my fingers closed on the fingers of a little, ice-cold hand! The intense horror of nightmare came over me: I tried to draw back my arm, but the hand clung to it, and a most melancholy voice sobbed, ‘Let me in—let me in!’ ‘Who are you?’ I asked, struggling, meanwhile, to disengage myself. ‘Catherine Linton,’ it replied, shiveringly (why did I think of Linton? I had read Earnshaw twenty times for Linton) ‘I’m come home: I’d lost my way on the moor!’ As it spoke, I discerned, obscurely, a child’s face looking through the window. 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: still it wailed, ‘Let me in!’ and maintained its tenacious gripe, almost maddening me with fear. ‘How can I!’ I said at length. ‘Let me go, if you want me to let you in!’ The fingers relaxed, I snatched mine through the hole, hurriedly piled the books up in a pyramid against it, and stopped my ears to exclude the lamentable prayer. I seemed to keep them closed above a quarter of an hour; yet, the instant I listened again, there was the doleful cry moaning on! ‘Begone!’ I shouted. ‘I’ll never let you in, not if you beg for twenty years.’ ‘It is twenty years,’ mourned the voice: ‘twenty years. I’ve been a waif for twenty years!'”
~Lockwood, Wuthering Heights, Chapter 3
“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! The murdered do haunt their murderers, I believe. I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!”
~Heathcliff, Wuthering Heights, Chapter 16
I’m really not obsessed. No. Really. Honest! I still like Tolkien better! …well, ok, I guess that really isn’t saying much, is it?
I very recently read Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte, for the first time. And I’m seriously considering starting it again. Definitely the most haunting book I have ever picked up…quite literally. It almost scared me. I could not put it down without greatly exercising my willpower and self control, and we alllll know how much willpower and self control Anna has when it comes to books. ;) I think I finished it in about two days…maybe three. By the time I got to the end, I was very angry, depressed, in love (can you be in love with a book character? O_o), and annoyed. With just about every character. Simultaneously. I don’t think I’ve ever hated the main character of a book so much, and yet neither have I loved and pitied the main character of a book so much before either. Yup. And as a result, I highly recommend Wuthering Heights to anyone who doesn’t mind being confused and/or depressed. =)
Anyhow. I came across this song somehow. I can’t remember how, anymore, actually…XD I think I saw a friend talking about it to someone else or something. Annnnnd it’s amazing. Such a perfect picture of the relationship between Heathcliff and Cathy…Gah, I really wish I could sing that high. Hehe. You might want to look up the words before you watch it, though…it’s kind of hard to tell what she’s saying sometimes. And you lose half the effect if you don’t hear the words! …Yea…I have this obsession with lyrics, too. *grins* =D