good sentences

　　he little imagined how my heart warmed towards him when i beheld his black eyes withdraw so suspiciously under their brows as i rode up and when his fingers sheltered themselves with a jealous resolution still further in his waistcoat as i announced my name.

　　we crept through a broken hedge groped our way up the path and planted ourselves on a flower-plot under the drawing-room window.

　　it was beautiful - a splendid place carpeted with crimson and crimson-covered chairs and tables and a pure white ceiling bordered by gold a shower of glass-drops hanging in silver chains from the centre and shimmering with little soft tapers.

　　isabella - i believe she is eleven a year younger than cathy - lay screaming at the farther end of the room shrieking as if witches were running red-hot needles into her.

　　the long light hair curled slightly on the temples; the eyes were large and serious; the figure almost too graceful.

　　she supposing edgar could not see her snatched the cloth from my hand and pinched me with a prolonged wrench very spitefully on the arm.

　　her eyes began to glisten and her lids to twinkle.

　　her lips were half asunder as if she meant to speak and she drew a breath; but it escaped in a sigh instead of a sentence.

　　my love for linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it i’m well aware as winter changes the trees. my love for heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight but necessary.

　　there was a violent wind as well as thunder and either one or the other split a tree off at the corner of the building: a huge bough fell across the roof and knocked down a portion of the east chimney-stack sending a clatter of stones and soot into the kitchen-fire.

　　and her teeth chattered as she shrank closer to the almost extinguished embers.

　　it had got dusk and the moon looked over the high wall of the court causing undefined shadows to lurk in the corners of the numerous projecting portions of the building.

　　a ray fell on his features; the cheeks were sallow and half covered with black whiskers; the brows lowering the eyes deep-set and singular.

　　linton eyed him with a droll expression - half angry half laughing at his fastidiousness.

　　it was about the period that my narrative has reached: a bright frosty afternoon; the ground bare and the road hard and dry.

　　linton lavished on her the kindest caresses and tried to cheer her by the fondest words; but vaguely regarding the flowers she let the tears collect on her lashes and stream down her cheeks unheeding.