It Is For God To

I Shall Smile When Wreaths Of Snow Blossom Where The Rose Should Grow.

I Cannot Live Without My Life! I Cannot Live Without My Soul!

Tis Moonlight, Summer Moonlight, All Soft And Still And Fair; The Solemn Hour Of Midnight Breathes Sweet Thoughts Everywhere, But Most Where Trees Are Sending Their Breezy Boughs On High, Or Stooping Low Are Lending A Shelter From The Sky. And There In Those Wild Bowers A Lovely Form Is Laid; Green Grass And Dew-steeped Flowers Wave Gently Round Her Head.

I Pray Every Night That I May Live After Him; Because I Would Rather Be Miserable Than That He Should Be — That Proves I Love Him Better Than Myself.

He Leant His Two Elbows On His Knees, And His Chin On His Hands And Remained Rapt In Dumb Meditation. On My Inquiring The Subject Of His Thoughts, He Answered Gravely 'i'm Trying To Settle How I Shall Pay Hindley Back. I Don't Care How Long I Wait, If I Can Only Do It At Last. I Hope He Will Not Die Before I Do!' 'for Shame, Heathcliff!' Said I. 'it Is For God To Punish Wicked People; We Should Learn To Forgive.' 'no, God Won’t Have The Satisfaction That I Shall,' He Returned. 'i Only Wish I Knew The Best Way! Let Me Alone, And I'll Plan It Out: While I'm Thinking Of That I Don't Feel Pain.