I lingered around them, under that benign sky; watched the moths fluttering among the heath and harebells; listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass; and wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth.<\/p>\n
Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.<\/p>\n
Vain are the thousand creeds that move men’s hearts, unutterably vain; Worthless as withered weeds, or idlest froth amid the boundless main.<\/p>\n
The tyrant grinds down his slaves and they don’t turn against him, they crush those beneath them.<\/p>\n
Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.<\/p>\n
My love for Heathchiff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary.<\/p>\n
Love is like the wild rose-briar; Friendship like the holly-tree. The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, but which will bloom most constantly?<\/p>\n
I’ve dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after.<\/p>\n
If I could I would always work in silence and obscurity, and let my efforts be known by their results.<\/p>\n
I see heaven’s glories shine and faith shines equal.<\/p>\n
I have dreamed in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind.<\/p>\n
I am now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town. A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.<\/p>\n
Having leveled my palace, don’t erect a hovel and complacently admire your own charity in giving me that for a home.<\/p>\n
Any relic of the dead is precious, if they were valued living.<\/p>\n
A person who has not done one half his day’s work by ten o clock, runs a chance of leaving the other half undone.<\/p>\n
A good heart will help you to a bonny face, my lad and a bad one will turn the bonniest into something worse than ugly.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\uc5d0\ubc00\ub9ac \ube0c\ub860\ud14c I lingered around them, under that benign sky; watched the moths fluttering among the heath and harebells; listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass; and wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the … <\/p>\n