"For what is not connected with her to me? and what does not recall her? I cannot look down to this floor, but her features are shaped in the flags! Every cloud, every tree - filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object by day - I am surrounded with her image! The most ordinary foaces of men and women - my own features - mock me with a resemblance. The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her!"
Wuthering Heights
by Emily Bronte