Going to Ireland someday - for the Cliffs of Moher.
Wuthering heights should have been set here, not on some wild moor, and Catherine Earnshaw should have been given a much more riveting end than dying post-childbirth.
The climax: Cathy dressed in white, heartbroken, raving mad, dark glossy hair tossing in the wind, dark frantic eyes scowering the storm-darkened horizon for some shadow of Heathcliff. Rain overwhelms the scenery, her gown clings to her body. Finding no trace of her lover, she closes her eyes and with arms outstretched, falls backwards over the cliff to a destined, untimely grave amongst the white breakers below.
“And I pray on a prayer - I repeat it until my tongue stiffens: 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 on earth. Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!”
- Heathcliff
Reblogged from dreameveryday
First item for the spring break to do list!
Source: sine-qua-non
