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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #catherine
Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living. You said I killed you--haunt me then. The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe--I know that ghosts have wandered the earth. Be with me always--take any form--drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul! ↗
I got the sexton, who was digging Linton’s grave, to remove the earth off her coffin lid, and I opened it. I thought, once, I would have stayed there, when I saw her face again—it is hers yet—he had hard work to stir me; but he said it would change, if the air blew on it... ↗
#cemetery #corpse #death #heathcliff #change
All of a sudden, she was there, breaking away from the little group of women and running toward him. She raced across the space between them and threw her arms around his neck. The force of her body knocked him back a few steps as she wrapped around him like a trumpet vine on a cornstalk. He regained his footing and snaked his arms around her, holding her close. His exhaustion disappeared in a moment, erased by the incredible fact that Catherine was in his arms right here on the street in front of half the town, lifting her face to kiss him. He couldn’t refuse her offer and bent his head to cover her soft lips with his. The heat and pressure of her mouth took away all the residual anxiety and fear still floating in him and filled him with wild elation instead. After several long minutes of feasting on her mouth like a starving man, he pulled away and his eyes opened. Her tear-streaked face filled his vision. His stomach dropped. Why was she crying? What had happened to her? He was aware of the crowd of people around them. Glancing up, he saw many eyes focused on him and Catherine, mouths talking, expressions of surprise and shock. He let go of her and stepped back, although it was far too late to protect her reputation. Catherine cupped his face, drawing his attention back to her, and her lips were moving. “…don’t you? Never again!” She frowned and signed as she spoke. “Never! Understand? I love you.” Her graceful hands made the love sign, which looked as though she was offering her heart to him. At last Jim realized she was upset with him for putting himself in danger. If he’d doubted that she cared, those doubts evaporated under the force of her fury. He nodded and promised. ↗
#bonnie-dee #catherine #jim #love
You ought to be ashamed of yourself, running around, not married, staying out all night. Ashamed!" "Ashamed!" my grandmother echoed. Good to know they still agreed on things after forty-three years of marriage. ↗
But, after one quick trace of his tongue between her lips, he abruptly pulled away and stepped back from her. She was leaning into him so hard he had to put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. Catherine’s eyes flew open. Releasing her shoulders, he pointed past her to the books he’d set on the desk. She opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again. As she followed Jim, she caught a glimpse of his profile when he picked up the books and slate. There was a smug grin on his face. He was toying with her, teaching her a lesson—that two could play at heating things up and abruptly cooling them down. Indignation and amusement competed in her as she took her seat beside him and he handed her the paper he’d written. She hadn’t set him any homework. He’d done it on his own, printed a brief description of their picnic in short sentences or single words. It was almost like a poem without rhyme. “Fish swim water. Sky. Trees. Leaves. Eat food. Drink.” She smiled at him. “Very good.” He touched his lips, puckering them in a kiss, and tapped the signing book. “Kiss,” she said and looked up the sign for it. “Fingers touching thumbs as both hands come together,” the text said. Her cheeks flushed as she read, “trembling slightly to indicate the degree of passion.” Catherine made the movement as she repeated the word aloud. “Kiss.” Jim copied the movement, shaping his lips like hers. He pointed to the slate and offered her the chalk so she could spell the word. He studied each letter as she wrote it, before printing them himself: K-i-s-s. Catherine’s cheeks flamed even hotter from seeing it written in glaring white against the black slate. Kiss. Kiss. Somehow there seemed to be no denying or hiding it now that it was written down. She glanced at Jim’s lips and her nipples tightened at the memory of his mouth sucking them. ↗
#bonnie-dee #catherine #jim #food
