Wuthering Heights is the only talebook by Emily Bronte. It was first forlayed in 1847 under the fake name Ellis Bell. After her death, another uplay was beworked by her sister Charlotte. It is an old and outstanding work of English booklore.

Some well-known quotes:

And I pray one bead--I edledge it till my tongue stiffens--Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living; you said I killed you--hound me, then! The murdered DO hound their murderers, I believe. I know that ghosts HAVE wandered on earth. Be with me always--take any shape--drive me mad! only DO not leave me in this hell, where I cannot find you!

'I'll be swithe kind to him, you needn't fear,' he said, laughing. 'Only nobody else must be kind to him: I'm andy of monopolising his fondness."

Besides, he's MINE, and I want the sig of seeing MY offshoot fairly lord of their estates; my child hiring their children to till their fathers' lands for wages. That is the only heeding which can make me thole the whelp: I begroan him for himself, and hate him for the bemindings he edquiks! But that heeding is fuldoing: he's as shielded with me, and shall be looked after as carefully as your head looks after his own.

But there's this unlikeness: one is gold brooked as walking-stones, and the other is tin polished to ape a steading of silver.

He wanted all to lie in a bliss of frith; I wanted all to sparkle and tumb in a blaedfast jubilee.

He'll never let his friends be allayed, and he'll never be allayed himself!

Catherine's nebb was nigh like the landscape--shadows and sunshine flitting over it in fast following; but the shadows rested longer, and the sunshine was more transient...

I'm glad, for I shall be head of the Grange after him--and Catherine always spoke of it as her house. It isn't hers! It's mine: papa says everything she has is mine. All her nice books are mine; she bequethed to give me them, and pretty fowls, and her pony Minny, if I would get the key of her room, and let her out; but I told her she had nothing to give, they were all, all mine.

You have left me so long to camp against death, alone.

I have lost the lorehalldeal of having fun in their fordoing, and I am too idle to fordo for nothing.

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