In Wuthering Heights, the many winds, almost toppled all feelings. But the strong root of the crystalline love remained. The eternal source to nourish the eternal tree, and all flowers, plants and rocks around you.
The scar that pulsates trying to remember the bitterness of Heathcliff, to the point of pleading maledictions at Catherine's Funeral.
I pray a plague! It was not a plague, it was a prayer, invoking the ghost of his beloved. That same ghost that visited many night his window, she realized the want of her beloved Heathcliff, pulling his life.
The hope of eternal love resting in eternal life, thus want to Emily Bronte, and it will.
In Wuthering Heights with love Glauber
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