Journal- Serious and Trivial

Heathcliff

My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being. So don't talk of our separation again: it is impracticable.

When the snows fall and the cold bites hard

When the winds are rough in dark wintry nights,

He walks in the moors calling out her name,

One who loved him like the rocks underneath;

When her father brought him home one day

He was just a wild-haired gypsy child; sullen,

He loved her and rose up in life just to gain her,

While her own brother brought him up low.

He loved her more than his own dark self;

She chose not him but a wealthy gentleman;

He came back and drove her to madness

And lies buried next to her and her mate.