I want to tell people about the meaning of the cross.

Soon I will sleep. What shall I dream of, my love? I will dream of you, of course. And I will dream for a place for us to be, a sanctuary where hearts will never break again. This is my dream, my heart. Never forget that there is no end to us, as there can be no end to love. Love must last forever, or why else would there be love? Until then, I will dream.

Every natural love will rise again and live forever in this country: but none will rise again until it has been buried.

Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.

People die. But when they love Jesus, they don't stay dead. They are raised to life again so they can be with Jesus. And for all eternity, for years and years and years of forever, they never have to think about death. It will never be something that will happen again. They will always and forever be alive, in heaven.

The shiny paint laid on by curiosity's hand has worn off. What thing better can a man know than the love of Christ, which passes knowledge?

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: I should not seem a part of it. My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes trees. My love for Heatcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary.

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.

I see a repose that neither earth nor hell can break, and I feel an assurance of the endless and shadowless hereafter—the Eternity they have entered—where life is boundless in its duration, and love in its sympathy, and joy in its fulness.

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. Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.

Heaven will be no heaven to me if I do not meet my wife there.

The Lord, Jesus Christ, is our perfect example of patience.