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...one is gold put to the use of paving-stones, and the other is tin polished to ape a service of silver.

One hoped and the other despaired: they chose their own lots, and were righteously doomed to endure them.

I'm weary of enduring now, and 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.

I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death; and flung it back to me.

Monster! would that he could be blotted out of creation, and out of my memory!

Her life closed in a gentle dream - may she wake as kindly in the other world!

She's fainted, or dead. So much the better.

Don't torture me till I'm as mad as yourself.

I shouldn't care what you suffered. I care nothing for your sufferings.

He might as well plant an oak in a flower-pot, and expect it to thrive, as imagine he can restore her to vigour in the soil of his shallow cares!

If she desired to go, she might: the nuisance of her presence outweighs the gratification to be derived from tormenting her!

[...] it is some devil that urges me to thwart my own schemes by killing him - you fight against that devil for love as long as you may; when the time comes, not all the angels in heaven shall save him.

Any relic of the dead is precious, if they were valued living.

I wish you joy of the milk-blooded coward, Cathy! I compliment you on your taste. And that is the slavering, shivering thing you preferred to me! I would not strike him with my fist, but I'd kick him with my foot, and experience considerable satisfaction.

Your type is not a lamb; it's a sucking leveret.

Your presence is a moral poison that would contaminate the most virtuous [...]

Your bliss lies [...] in inflicting misery.