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Heathcliff on his deathbed

I’m coming to you, Catherine, dear, Together we shall ravage this moor With the fire of our passions. We shall share these heights with none Other than the creatures of the night Whose grit and cheek match ours. How long and terrible a vigil did You demand from this your mate! And wait did I, like a lump of coal In the womb of the earth, for a birth. This death is my birth: To our dark nights, our paradise. Our paradise! Where fire shall purge fire Into the brightest flame That tempers coal into diamond. Then shall be my rebirth, and yours, And of the night. Note :  Heathcliff is the protagonist of Emile Bronte’s novel, Wuthering Heights .

Orator

When the orator sees a mike Words rush out like a torrent. He’s a good juggler of words. Juggled words are like                 water drops falling in sunlight; They have hues indeterminate                 and they dazzle. I have learnt                 that words can create reality.