Wuthering Height's Catherine and Heathcliff, the classic love/tragedy story. Best friends? For sure. Brother and sister? Kinda. Lovers? Nope - and that's the kicker. They really were exact matches: same wild spirit, mutual self-sacrifice exclusively for the other, and perfect unspoken understanding.
Let me state a disclaimer before I go any further: I'm a kid, "love" is not my thing. The word gets thrown around loosely (and my age group perpetuates the problem, I know). However, I can positively identify "true love" when I see it, and Catherine and Heathcliff have got it.
The funny thing is though, their love was not supposed to work. It didn't. It couldn't, or else its unrelenting hold on both of them would not have been as plainly and indisputably obvious as it was. Catherine sacrificed herself by marrying Edgar so that she and Heathcliff (most importantly, Heathcliff) would not have to live in poverty. The contrast between Edgar and Heathcliff had to be made, otherwise the perfect match between Catherine and Heathcliff could not be fully realized. And Heathcliff is tortured without Catherine. He is wretched and evil, feeling only pain and misery that he is compelled to inflict on others so he does not have to bear it alone. Ultimately, they could not be together because they were the same person: willing to sacrifice their own happiness for the other, which in the end left the score at sacrifices: 2, happiness: 0.
Currently Reading:
Gut Feelings: The Intelligence of the Unconscious, by Gerd Gigerenzer
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