10/14/07 08:41 am - Wuthering Heights
But this I know; the writer who possesses the creative gift owns something of which he is not always master - something that at times strangely wills and works for itself. He may lay down rules and devise principles, and to rules and principles it will perhaps for years lie in subjection; and then, haply without any warning of revolt, there comes a time when it will no longer consent to 'harrow the vallies, or be bound with a band in the furrow' - when it laughs at the multitude of the city, and regards not the crying of the driver - when, refusing absolutely to make ropes out of sea-sand any longer, it sets to work on statue-hewing, and you have a Pluto or a Jove, a Tisiphone, or a Psyche, a Mermaid or a Madonna, as Fate or Inspiration direct. Be the work grim or glorious, dread or divine, you have little choice left but quiescent adoption. As for you - the nominal artist - your share in it has been to work passively under dictates you neither delivered nor could question - that would not be uttered at your prayer, nor suppressed nor changed at your caprice. If the result be attractive, the World will praise you, who little deserve praise; if it be repulsive, the same World will blame you, who almost as little deserve blame.
-Charlotte Bronte, 1850 preface to Wuthering Heights
I'm four pages in, and Heathcliff wears Snape's face most of the time. *love*
-Charlotte Bronte, 1850 preface to Wuthering Heights
I'm four pages in, and Heathcliff wears Snape's face most of the time. *love*