Wuthering Heights

by Emily Brontë.

Brontë classic, written just down the road from here.

Wuthering Heights

After ten years living a few miles over the moors from the place that supposedly inspired Wuthering Heights, I thought it was about time that I read it.

Virginia Woolf said:

It is as if Emily Brontë could tear up all that we know human beings by, and fill these unrecognizable transparencies with such a gust of life that they transcend reality.

Kate Bush said:

Sylvia Plath (buried just across the valley from here) said:

There is no life higher than the grasstops
Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind
Pours by like destiny, bending
Everything in one direction.
I can feel it trying
To funnel my heat away.
If I pay the roots of the heather
Too close attention, they will invite me
To whiten my bones among them.

I say:

Heathcliff: what a total arsehole!

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