That night she drew her swan breath in a bed Made soft with all her razor blades, That kissed her wrists with the romance you lacked. As the hands that you’d kissed now dealt the trades
'Hush, hush!' I whispered; 'people can have many cousins and of all sorts, Miss Cathy, without being any the worse for it; only they needn't keep their company, if they be disagreeable and bad. — Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights
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