From over the hills
And far away
Your spirit calls me
Every day
"All my life's buried here, heap earth upon it"
From over the hills
And far away
Your spirit calls me
Every day
‘You teach me now how cruel you’ve been – cruel and false! Why did you despise me? Why did you betray your own heart, Cathy? I have not one word of comfort. You deserve this. You have killed yourself. Yes, you may kiss me, and cry; and wring out my kisses and tears: they’ll blight you – they’ll damn you. You loved me – then what right had you to leave me? What right – answer me – for the poor fancy you felt for Linton?
Because misery, and degradation, and death, and nothing God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will did it. I have not broken your heart – you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine. So much the worse for me, that I am strong. Do I want to live? What kind of living will it be when you – oh, God! would you like to live with your soul in the grave?’
– Emily Brontë
‘Oh it gets dark, it gets lonely
On the other side from you…’