Love is the folly of men and the wit of God.

There is nothing else but that in the world: love for each other.

The reduction of the universe to a single being, the expansion of a single being even to God, that is love.

The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves.

There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart… Warmth and tenderness of heart… will beat all the clearness of head in the world, for attraction, I am sure it will.

If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.

I have loved you long; I shall love you long: while I live and, if there is mercy, after.

No, my dear fellow! I am not proud, but I am happy, and happiness blinds, I think, more than pride.

Has the sun done anything for me? No; he warms me with his rays, and it is by his light that I see you—nothing more.

If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and, if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.

My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods; time will change it, I’m well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath—a source of little visible delight, but necessary.

It was not intended as a compliment. It was a confession… Perhaps one should never put one’s worship into words.