Wuthering Heights

by Emily Brontë

“Wuthering” being a significant provincial adjective, descriptive of the atmospheric tumult to which its station is exposed in stormy weather.

liver-coloured bitch pointer,

😂

hardened, perhaps, to ill-treatment:

So because he didn't give a response to your abuse, you continued it... and now he's grown into a big ol' asshole. Are we surprised?

I waited five minutes, but getting no answer left him.

Are you shocked the little boy you torment hasn't warmed up to you? Maybe start with an apology.

‘Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.

for when Heathcliff expressed contempt of Linton in his presence, she could not half coincide, as she did in his absence; and when Linton evinced disgust and antipathy to Heathcliff, she dared not treat his sentiments with indifference, as if depreciation of her playmate were of scarcely any consequence to her.

she was so proud it became really impossible to pity her distresses,

I’ve given him an answer. Now, before I tell you whether it was a consent or denial, you tell me which it ought to have been.”

Well shit, it's a little too late to ask for advice...

But say whether I should have done so—do!”

🙄🙄🙄 ...oh, she's not looking for advice she's looking to feel better about making a bad decision...

for a girl of twenty-two

Too old for this bullshit, if you ask me

And he will be rich, and I shall like to be the greatest woman of the neighbourhood, and I shall be proud of having such a husband.”

Considering the times it's as good a reason, if any... I guess. At least she's making her own (bad) decision of her own volition...?

All sinners would be miserable in heaven.”

if I marry Linton I can aid Heathcliff to rise, and place him out of my brother’s power.”

"It's a bold strategy, Cotton."

as a brother.”

lover*

she sprang forward, took both his hands, and led him to Linton; and then she seized Linton’s reluctant fingers and crushed them into his.

Husband, please meet my long lost love; Long lost love, please meet my husband - now be friends!

interrupted Linton,

Homeboy is just sitting by watching his wife flirt and reminiesce right in front of him 😂

Mr. Earnshaw invited him! and he called on Mr. Earnshaw!

Spent 3 years plotting on y'all and now ol' Heathcliff came to stir some shit up!

And I want some living creature to keep me company in my happiness!

Ah yes, let's just drop everything we're doing and pay attention to Catherine everyone! 😒

Edgar is sulky, because I’m glad of a thing that does not interest him:

Your husband isn't interested in hearing about your long lost unrequited love who you've just spent the evening gushing over in front of him? You don't say...

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

Guessing this marriage hasn't been consumated, yet...

I’m tired of being enclosed here. I’m wearying to escape into that glorious world, and to be always there: not seeing it dimly through tears, and yearning for it through the walls of an aching heart: but really with it, and in it.

Why did you betray your own heart, Cathy? I have not one word of comfort. You deserve this. You have killed yourself.

was born the Catherine

Call Maury!

and two hours after the mother died,

Oh... I thought there would be... more(?) to this

And I partook of the infinite calm in which she lay: my mind was never in a holier frame than while I gazed on that untroubled image of Divine rest.

Do you believe such people are happy in the other world, sir? I’d give a great deal to know.

I’d be glad of a retaliation that wouldn’t recoil on myself; but treachery and violence are spears pointed at both ends; they wound those who resort to them worse than their enemies.’

True...

Treachery and violence are a just return for treachery and violence!’

...also true

But you’ll not want to hear my moralising,

I have questions about your morals

Isabella was dead;

Damn, all this dense prose and the women's deaths get a quick blurb.

your mother was a wicked slut

Heathcliff, you ignorant slut!

it was not because I disliked Mr. Heathcliff, but because Mr. Heathcliff dislikes me;

Y'all both dislike each other... or are in love with each other. Y'all are both assholes and so were your widows.

amazed at the blackness of spirit that could brood on and cover revenge for years, and deliberately prosecute its plans without a visitation of remorse.

frightened from her little romance, had been considerably sadder and duller since its abandonment; and her father insisted on her reading less, and taking more exercise.

Everyone is going to die of depression

As soon as she supposed me absorbed in my occupation, she recommenced her silent weeping: it appeared, at present, her favourite diversion. I suffered her to enjoy it a while; then I expostulated: deriding and ridiculing all Mr. Heathcliff’s assertions about his son, as if I were certain she would coincide.

You cut her off from her admirer and then chastise her for having feelings about it - what the fuck is wrong with everyone in this goddamn book?

Pretty Linton! I wish you were my brother.”

😵 bish, whet?!

people hate their wives, sometimes; but not their sisters and brothers:

ohhhh.... still, tho - bish whet?!

Linton denied that people ever hated their wives;

Sir, take a look around, your parents are a prime example as are Cathy's parents.

spiteful, cruel thing!

just like her mother (hell, just like evereyone in this book)

thus the evening was her own.

I know where she's going...

And on the first occasion of my sitting up in the evening, I asked Catherine to read to me, because my eyes were weak.

She's about to pick the shortest book and speed read it to you 😂

Ellen, are not you tired?

She's up watching you!

the ruffian you have such sympathy with

Nelly always siding with the ruffian

I feel so cross and bitter, I hate everybody! I am worthless, and bad in temper, and bad in spirit, almost always;

This is everyone's disposition in this book - these couples are a match made in heaven because God knows no one else would put up with all this petty nonsense.

I cannot amuse you to-day, I see, by my tales, and songs, and chatter: you have grown wiser than I, in these six months; you have little taste for my diversions now: or else, if I could amuse you, I’d willingly stay.”

Ma'am, he hasn't grown wiser, he's grown sicker and is probably suffering brain damage from fever.

but her own quick spirit refused to delude her: it divined in secret, and brooded on the dreadful probability, gradually ripening into certainty.

a golden afternoon of August: every breath from the hills so full of life, that it seemed whoever respired it, though dying, might revive.

He shut and locked it also. I started.

Girl, you in danger.gif

Zillah and Joseph are off on a journey of pleasure;

oop!

administered with the other a shower of terrific slaps on both sides of the head,

What the fuck is happening?!