Cime Tempestose quotations, Guide, Progetti e Ricerche di Letteratura Inglese

Scarica Cime Tempestose quotations e più Guide, Progetti e Ricerche in PDF di Letteratura Inglese solo su Docsity!   1   QUOTATIONS:  WUTHERING  HEIGHTS       1.  “Certain   living   spiritual   principles   –   on   the   one   hand   what   may   be   called   the   principle  of   storm  –  of   the  harsh,   the  ruthless,   the  wild,   the  dynamic;  and  on   the   other  hand  the  principle  of  calm  –  of  the  gentle,  the  merciful,   the  passive  and  the   tame…   in   spite   of   their   apparent   opposition,   these   principles   are   not   conflicting.   Either…  each  is  the  expression  of  a  different  aspect  of  a  single  pervading  spirit;  or   they  are  the  component  of  a  harmony.”  (Lord  David  Cecil.  Early  Victorian  Novelists,   London:  Constable,  1934)   2. ‘Wuthering’   as   “being   a   significant   provincial   adjective,   descriptive   of   the   atmospheric  tumult  which  its  station  is  exposed  in  stormy  weather.  Pure,  bracing   ventilation  they  must  have  up  there,  at  all  times,  indeed:  one  may  guess  the  power   of  the  north  wind,  blowing  over  the  edge,  by  the  excessive  slant  of  a  few,  stunted   firs   at   the   end   of   the   house;   and   by   a   range   of   gaunt   thorns   all   stretching   their   limbs  one  way,  as  if  craving  alms  of  the  sun.  Happily,  the  architect  had  foresight  to   build   it   strong:   the   narrow  windows   are   deeply   set   in   the  wall,   and   the   corners   defended  with  large  jutting  stones.”  (Vol.  I,  Ch.  I)   3. “It   was   beautiful   –   a   splendid   place,   carpeted   with   crimson,   and   a   pure   white   ceiling  bordered  by  gold,  decorated  with  delicate  ornamentation  in  gold  and  silver   and   lit   with   artificial   light   […]   And   now,   guess   what   your   good   children   were   doing?  Isabella  –  I  believe  she  is  eleven,  a  year  younger  than  Cathy  –  lay  screaming   at   the   farther   end   of   the   room,   shrieking   as   if   witches   were   running   red-­‐hot   needles  into  her,  Edgar  stood  on  the  hearth  weeping  silently,  and  in  the  middle  of   the   table   sat   a   little   dog,   shaking   its   paw   and   yelping;  which,   from   their  mutual   accusations,   we   understood   they   had   nearly   pulled   in   two   between   them.   The   idiots!  That  was  their  pleasure!   to  quarrel  who  should  hold  a  heap  of  warm  hair,   and  each  begin  to  cry  because  both,  after  struggling  to  get  it,  refused  to  take  it.  We   laughed  outright  at  the  petted  things,  we  did  despise  them!”  (Vol.  I,  Ch.  VI)   4. “One  step  brought  us  into  the  family  sitting-­‐room,  without  any  introductory  lobby   or  passage:  they  call  it  here  “the  house”  pre-­‐eminently.  It  includes  the  kitchen  and   parlor,  generally,  but  I  believe  at  Wuthering  Heights  the  kitchen  is  forced  to  retreat   altogether  into  another  quarter:  at  least  I  distinguished  a  chatter  of  tongues  and  a   clatter  of  culinary  utensils,  deep  within;  and  I  observed  no  signs  of  roasting,  boiling   or  baking,   about   the  huge   fire-­‐place;  nor  any  glitter  of   copper   saucepans  and   tin   cullenders  on   the  walls   […]  Above   the   chimney  were   sundry  villainous  old   guns,   and   a   couple   of   horse-­‐pistols,   and   by   way   or   ornament,   three   gaudily   painted   canisters  disposed  along  its  ledge.  The  floor  was  of  smooth,  white  stone:  the  chairs,   high-­‐backed,   primitive   structures,   painted   green:   one   or   two   heavy   black   ones   lurking  in  the  shade.  In  an  arch  under  the  dresser,  reposed  a  huge,  liver-­‐coloured   bitch   pointer,   surrounded   by   a   swarm   of   squealing   puppies,   and   other   dogs   haunted  other  recesses.”  (Vol.  I,  Ch.  I)   5.  “A  sorrowful  sight  I  saw;  dark  night  coming  down  prematurely,  and  sky  and  hills   mingled  in  one  bitter  whirl  of  wind  and  suffocating  snow  […]  I’ll  show  you  how  far   I’ve  progressed  in  the  Black  Art  –  I  shall  soon  be  competent  to  make  a  clear  house   of   it.   The   red   cow   didn’t   die   by   chance;   and   your   rheumatism   can   hardly   be   reckoned   among   providential   visitations!   […]The   intense   horror   of   nightmare   came  over  me  and  a  most  melancholy  voice  sobbed,  ‘Let  me  in  –  let  me  in’.  Who  are   you?  ‘Catherine  Linton,  I’m  come  home,  I’d  lost  my  way  on  the  moor!  As  it  spoke,  I   discerned,  obscurely,  a  child’s  face  looking  through  the  window  –  Terror  made  me   cruel;  and,  finding  it  useless  to  attempt  shaking  the  creature  off,  I  pulled  its  wrist   on  to  the  broken  pane,  and  rubbed  it  to  and  fro  till  the  blood  ran  down  and  soaked   the   bed-­‐clothes:   still   it   wailed,   ‘Let   me   in!’   and   maintained   its   tenacious   gripe,   almost  maddening  me  with  fear.”  (Vol.  I,  Ch.  II,  III)     2   6.  [After  Heathcliff’s  departure]:  “It  was  a  very  dark  evening  for  summer:  the  clouds   appeared   inclined   to   thunder.   About   midnight,   while   we   still   sat   up,   the   storm   came   rattling   over   the  Heights   in   full   fury.   There  was   a   violent  wind,   as  well   as   thunder,  and  either  one  or   the  other  split  a   tree  off  at   the  corner  of   the  building.   But  the  uproar  passed  away  in  twenty  minutes,  leaving  us  all  unharmed,  excepting   Cathy,  who  thoroughly  drenched  for  her  obstinacy  in  refusing  to  take  shelter,  and   standing  bonnet-­‐less  and  shawl-­‐less  to  catch  as  much  water  as  she  could  with  her   hair  and  clothes”  […]  [After  Catherine’s  death]:  “In  the  evening,  the  weather  broke;   the  wind   shifted   from   south   to   north-­‐east,   and  brought   rain   first,   and   then   sleet   and  snow.  On  the  moor  one  could  hardly  imagine  that  there  had  been  three  weeks   of  summer:  the  primroses  and  crocuses  were  hidden  under  wintry  drifts:  the  larks   were   silent,   the   young   leaves   of   the   early   trees   smitten   and   blackened!   –   And   dreary,  and  chill,  and  dismal  that  morrow  did  creep  over!”  (Vol.  I,  Ch.  IX;  Vol.  II,  Ch.  III)   7. Heathcliff   is   defined   as   “an   unreclaimed   creature,   without   refinement,   without   cultivation;  an  arid  wilderness  of  furze  and  whinstone  […]  The  contrast  (between   Heathcliff   and   Edgar)   resembled  what   you   see   in   exchanging   a   bleak,   hilly,   coal   country  for  a  beautiful  fertile  valley.”  (Vol.  I,  Ch.  X)   8.  “They  both  promised  fair  to  grow  up  as  rude  as  savages…  but  it  was  one  of  their   chief  amusements  to  run  away  to  the  moors   in  the  morning  and  remain  there  all   day,   and   the   after   punishment   grew   a   mere   thing   to   laugh   at;   they   forgot   everything  the  minute  they  were  together  again.”  (Vol.  I,  Ch.  VI)   9. “Mrs  Earnshaw  undertook  to  keep  her  sister-­‐in-­‐law  in  due  restraint  […]  employing   art,   not   force   […]   and   commenced  her  plan  of   reform  by   trying   to   raise  her   self-­‐ respect  with   fine   clothes   and   flattery   […]   so   that,   instead   of   a  wild,   hatless   little   savage   jumping   into   the   house,   and   rushing   to   squeeze   us   all   breathless,   there   lighted  from  a  handsome  black  pony  a  very  dignified  person,  with  brown  ringlets   falling   from   the   cover   of   a   feathered   beaver,   and   a   long   habit   which   she   was   obliged  to  hold  up  with  both  hands  that  she  might  sail  in.”  (Vol.  I,  Ch.  VII)   10. “Here  she  burst  into  uncontrollable  grief,  and  I  shall  never  forget  what  a  scene  she   acted,  when  we   reached   her   chamber.   It   terrified  me   –   I   thought   she  was   going   mad,  and   I  begged   Joseph   to   run   for   the  doctor.   It  proved   the  commencement  of   delirium;  Mr.  Kenneth,  as  soon  as  he  saw  her,  pronounced  her  dangerously  ill;  she   had   a   fever   …   Catherine   had   seasons   of   gloom   and   silence,   now   and   then:   they   were  respected  with  sympathizing  silence  by  her  husband,  who  ascribed  them  to   an  alteration  in  her  constitution,  produced  by  her  perilous  illness,  as  she  was  never   subject  to  depression  of  spirits  before.”  (Vol.  I,  Ch.  IX)     11.  “Don’t  you  see  that  face?  […]  Who  is  it?  I  hope  it  will  not  come  out  when  you  are   gone!   Oh!   Nelly,   the   room   is   haunted!   I’m   afraid   of   being   alone!   […]   Oh,   I’m   burning!   I  wish   I  were  out   of   doors   –   I  wish   I  were   a   girl   again,   half   savage   and   hardy,  and  free  …  and  laughing  at  injuries,  not  maddening  under  them!  Why  am  I   so  changed?  I’m  sure  I  should  be  myself  were  I  once  among  the  heather  on  those   hills…  Open   the  window  again  wide,   fasten   it   open!  Quick,  why  don’t   you  move?   ‘Because   I  won’t   give   you   your   death   of   cold’,   I   answered.   ‘You  won’t   give  me   a   chance  of  life,  you  mean’,  she  said  sullenly  […]  ‘Oh,  if  I  were  but  in  my  own  bed  in   the  old  house!’  she  went  on  bitterly,  wringing  her  hands.  ‘And  that  wind  sounding   in  the  firs  by  the  lattice.  Do  let  me  feel  it  –  it  comes  straight  down  the  moor  –  do  let   me  have  one  breath!”  (Vol.  I,  Ch.  XII)   12. “But  who  is  this?  Where  did  she  pick  up  this  companion?  Oho!  I  declare  he  is  that   strange  acquisition  my   late  neighbour  made   in  his   journey   to  Liverpool  –   a   little   Lascar,  or  an  American  or  Spanish  castaway  […]  You’re  fit  for  a  prince  in  disguise.   Who   knows,   but   your   father  was   Emperor   of   China,   and   your  mother   an   Indian   queen,  each  of   them  able   to  buy  up,  with  one  week’s   income,  Wuthering  Heights   and  Thrushcross  Grange  together?  And  you  were  kidnapped  by  wicked  sailors,  and   brought  to  England.  Were  I  in  your  place,  I  would  frame  high  notions  of  my  birth;