There is a temperate zone in the mind, between luxurious indolence and exacting work; and it is to this region, just between laziness and labor, that summer reading belongs.
Henry Ward Beecher
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Wuthering Heights
Out on the wiley, windy moors
We'd roll and fall in green.
You had a temper like my jealousy:
Too hot, too greedy.
How could you leave me,
When I needed to possess you?
I hated you. I loved you, too.
Bad dreams in the night.
They told me I was going to lose the fight,
Leave behind my wuthering, wuthering
Wuthering Heights.
Heathcliff, it's me--Cathy.
Come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.
Heathcliff, it's me--Cathy.
Come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.
Ooh, it gets dark! It gets lonely,
On the other side from you.
I pine a lot. I find the lot
Falls through without you.
I'm coming back, love.
Cruel Heathcliff, my one dream,
My only master.
Too long I roam in the night.
I'm coming back to his side, to put it right.
I'm coming home to wuthering, wuthering,
Wuthering Heights,
Heathcliff, it's me--Cathy.
Come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.
Heathcliff, it's me--Cathy.
Come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.
Ooh! Let me have it.
Let me grab your soul away.
Ooh! Let me have it.
Let me grab your soul away.
You know it's me--Cathy!
Heathcliff, it's me--Cathy.
Come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.
Heathcliff, it's me--Cathy.
Come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.
Heathcliff, it's me--Cathy.
Come home. I'm so cold!