wuthering heights is essentially an academically acclaimed tea session lmfao. that’s right nelly sis, keep spilling on catherine and heathcliff! the people wanna know!
“Glad was I to get him out of the silk warehouse, and then out of a jeweler’s shop: the more he bought me, the more my cheek burned with a sense of annoyance and degradation. As we re-entered the carriage, and I sat back, feverish and fagged, I remembered what, in the hurry of events, dark and bright, I had wholly forgotten – the letter of my uncle, John Eyre, to Mrs. Reed: his intention to adopt me and make me his legatee. ‘It would, indeed be a relief,’ I thought, ‘if I had ever so small an independency; I never can bear being dressed like a doll by Mr. Rochester, or sitting like a second Danae with the golden shower falling daily round me.’”
“Much enjoyment I do not expect in the life opening before me: yet it will, doubtless, if I regulate my mind, and exert my powers as I ought, yield me enough to live on from day to day.”
say whatever you like but being covered in the blood of your (now murdered) gay artist friend who painted your potrait which was so life like you decided to trade your soul for the beauty and youth depicted in it is the most gayest thing a man can do.
Spent the afternoon recreating Dorian Gray’s desk (or at least, what I imagine his desk to be like) ♥ The newspaper is a replica of one from 1895, the closest I own to the book’s setting. There’s wine, naturally, cherries, and an unfinished letter to Sybil beginning “Dear Sybil, my Rosalind, my Juliet, I have never been so happy…” I refrained from including paints/paint brushes, as much as I wanted to, because they wouldn’t feature on an authentic Dorian Gray desk. Basil was the artist after all.
…So I was reading Phantom of the opera… I don’t know whether to despise Erik or pity him. Yes I know he killed people and kidnapped others… but-but he had a tough life… he just wanted to be normal. In the end, all he craved was normalcy and the love he’d never received.
That book was a tragedy and no one can convince me otherwise.
“Your soul is a beautiful thing, child,” replied the man’s voice, “and I thank you. No emperor ever received so fair a gift. The angels wept tonight.” –Gaston Leroux, The Phantom of the Opera
