A dark-skinned gypsy in aspect, in dress and manners a gentleman.

a gift of God; though it’s as dark almost as if it came from the devil.

Nelly Dean: Possessed of something diabolical.

'Oh Cathy, oh my life! How can I bear it?' ... [eyes] burned with anguish: they did not melt.

Unreclaimed creature

Mad dog, savage beast ... fierce, pitiless, wolfish man.

Creature [not] of my own species ... ghoul or vampire?

Is Mr. Heathcliff a man? If so, is he mad? And if not, is he a devil?

Black whiskers, eyes deep set and singular ... A half-civilised ferocity lurked yet in the ... eyes full of black fire ... subdued; manner dignified: quite divested of roughness.

The more the worms writhe, the more I yearn to crush out their entrails! It is a moral teething; and I grind with greater energy in proportion to the increase of pain.

I love my[i] murderer—but yours! How can I?

gnashed at me, foamed like mad dog ... / sharp cannibal teeth, revealed by cold and wrath ... ruffian kicked trampled on him ... holding me with one hand

A wild, wicked slip ... bonniest eye ... meant no harm.

Nelly, I am[i] Heathcliff! ... he's more myself than I am.

Insipid, paltry creature attending her from duty[i] to humanity[i]! ... pity[i], charity[i]

It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now ... Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same; and Linton’s is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire.

She was the most winning thing that ever brought sunshine into a desolate house ... Earnshaws’ handsome dark eyes, Lintons’ fair skin small features, yellow curling hair

He wanted all to lie in an ecstasy of peace; I wanted all to sparkle and dance in a glorious jubilee.

I said his heaven would be only half alive; and he said mine would be drunk: I said I should fall asleep in his; and he said he could not breathe in mine

she is so immeasurably superior to them—to everybody on earth, is she not, Nelly?

no angel in heaven could be more beautiful than she appeared.

When I recollect how happy we were—how happy Catherine was before he came—I’m fit to curse the day.

Doll ... spoiled child ... soft thing ... lamb threatens like a bull

pet ... puling chicken ... whelp ... / Linton lay on the settle, sole tenant, sucking a stick of sugar-candy.

an elf-locked, brown-eyed boy ... / ruffianly child, strong in limb dirty in garb, [catherine's eyes] ... / never taught to read or write ... never led a single step towards virtue

He possessed the power to depart as much as a cat possesses the power to leave a mouse half killed, or a bird half eaten.

an ailing, peevish creature

Now, my bonny lad, you are mine! And we’ll see if one tree won’t grow as crooked as another, with the same wind to twist it!

pulling her on his knee, administered with the other a shower of terrific slaps on both sides of the head ... diabolical violence

"Earnshaw" - Are they an old family?

Very old, sir; and Hareton is the last of them, as our Miss Cathy is of us—I mean, of the Lintons.

I continued, turning to an obscure cushion full of something like cats ... Unluckily, it was a heap of dead rabbits.

Heathcliff in his chamber 'praying like a Methodist: only the deity he implored is senseless dust and ashes'

Nelly 'shot direct across the moor, rolling over banks, and wading through marshes: precipitating myself, in fact, towards the beacon-light of the Grange.'

The Grange is not a prison, Ellen, and you are not my gaoler.

The mortal terror he felt of Mr. Heathcliff’s anger restored to the boy his coward’s eloquence.

a splendid place carpeted with crimson ... a pure white ceiling bordered by gold

In all England, I do not believe that I could have fixed on a situation so completely removed from the stir of society. A perfect misanthropist’s heaven.

excessive slant of few stunted firs at end of the house; by range of gaunt thorns all stretching their limbs one way, as if craving alms of the sun ... narrow windows deeply set in wall, corners defended with large jutting stones.

grotesque carvings ... crumbling griffins

sky and hills mingled in one bitter whirl of wind and suffocating snow.

On that bleak hill-top the earth was hard with a black frost,

heaven did not seem my home; broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth; angels so angry they flung me out into the middle of heath on the top of Heights; where I woke sobbing for joy.

the winter will probably finish her ... such a rush of a lass!

a glare of white letters started from the dark, as vivid as spectres—the air swarmed with Catherines

my fingers closed on the fingers of a little, ice-cold hand! The intense horror of nightmare came over me ... Terror made me cruel

I’ve dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas: they’ve gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind.

I heard my master mounting the stairs—the cold sweat ran from my forehead: I was horrified.

The murdered do[i] haunt their murderers, I believe.

the after punishment grew a mere thing to laugh at.

We’re dismal enough without conjuring up ghosts and visions to perplex us.

I was superstitious about dreams then, and am still; and Catherine had an unusual gloom in her aspect, that made me dread something from which I might shape a prophecy, and foresee a fearful catastrophe.

Now all is dashed wrong; by the fool’s craving to hear evil of self, that haunts some people like a demon!

Because I’m weak, my brain got confused, and I screamed unconsciously ... I dread sleeping: my dreams appal me.

Two words would comprehend my future—death and hell: existence, after losing her, would be hell.

Heathcliff—I shudder to name him!

It was very, very sad: and while I read I sighed, for it seemed as if all joy had vanished from the world, never to be restored.

nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us,

Miss Cathy’s riven th’ back off ‘Th’ Helmet o’ Salvation,’ un’ Heathcliff’s pawsed his fit into t’ first part o’ ‘T’ Brooad Way to Destruction!

I shall be incomparably beyond and above you all / Incomparably beyond and above us all! Whether still on earth or now in heaven, her spirit is at home with God!

Your pride cannot blind God!

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!

I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!

It is for God to punish wicked people; we should learn to forgive. ... No, God won’t have the satisfaction that I shall

He neither wept nor prayed; he cursed and defied: execrated God and man, and gave himself up to reckless dissipation.

All warks togither for gooid to them as is chozzen

Petted things

I’d not exchange, for a thousand lives, my condition here, for Edgar Linton’s at Thrushcross Grange.

I have read more than you would fancy, Mr. Lockwood. You could not open a book in this library that I have not looked into,

He might as well plant an oak in a flower-pot, and expect it to thrive, as imagine he can restore her to vigour in the soil of his shallow cares

That is not my Heathcliff. I shall love mine yet; and take him with me: he’s in my soul.
*H as opponent of bourgeois values*

Did it never strike you that if Heathcliff and I married, we should be beggars? whereas, if I marry Linton I can aid Heathcliff to rise, and place him out of my brother’s power.

it is strange how custom can mould our tastes and ideas

It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.

the mild and generous are only more justly selfish than the domineering

I’ve no more business to marry Edgar Linton than I have to be in heaven

a white face scratched and bruised, and a frame hardly able to support itself through fatigue

the housekeeper, a matronly lady, taken as a fixture along with the house

he wanted no women in the house

M/F company determines lifestyle.

I had to tend them, and take on me the cares of a woman at once

[Frances] had neither money nor name

I would have torn his heart out, and drunk his blood!

The commonest occurrence startles her painfully

she slipped the gold ring from her third finger, and threw it on the floor. ‘I’ll smash it!’ she continued, striking it with childish spite, ‘and then I’ll burn it!’

the house, inside, had regained its ancient aspect of comfort under female management