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I just read Wuthering Heights, and I can't get it out of my head. Great, great book. I'm gonna read more. Maybe some Faulkner. And some Byron.
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There is a Hand to turn the time,
Though thy Glass today be run,
Till the Light hath brought the Towers low
Find the last poor Preterite one . . .
Till the Riders sleep by ev'ry road,
All through our crippl'd Zone,
With a face in ev'ry Mountainside
And a Soul in ev'ry stone
Now Everybody -
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