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Wuthering Heights

Emily Brontë's Wuthering Heights is a profound and haunting narrative that delves into the lives of Heathcliff and Catherine Earnshaw, two individuals whose intense and tumultuous relationship shapes their destinies. Set in the wild moors of Yorkshire, the story explores themes of class, obsession, and the enduring power of love. more

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Emily Brontë

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“A father who has a contentious son will not act in ways that lack ritual propriety. A well-bred man who has a contentious friend will not do what is not yi [just; correct]. Thus, if a son simply obeys his father, how would that son be filial? If a minister simply obeys his lord, how would the minister be exercising fidelity? To be careful about the cases in which one obeys another – this is called filial piety, this is called fidelity. (Xunzi “The Way to be a Son,” Hutton p. 326).”

“She considers a tray of flaky 'jesuites,' their centers redolent of frangipani cream, decorated with violet buds preserved in clouds of black crystal sugar. Or 'dulce de leche' tarts- caramelized swirls on a 'pate sucree' crust, glowing with chocolate, tiny muted peaks, ruffles of white pastry like Edwardian collars. But nothing seems special enough and nothing seems right. Nothing seems like Stanley. Avis brings out the meticulous botanical illustrations she did in school, pins them all around the kitchen like a room from Audubon's house. She thinks of slim layers of chocolate interspersed with a vanilla caramel. On top she might paint a frosted forest with hints of white chocolate, dashes of rosemary subtle as deja vu. A glissando of light spilling in butter-drops from one sweet lime leaf to the next. On a drawing pad she uses for designing wedding cakes, she begins sketching ruby-throated hummingbirds in flecks of raspberry fondant, a sub-equatorial sun depicted in neoclassical butter cream. At the center of the cake top, she draws figures regal and languid as Gauguin's island dwellers, meant to be Stanley, Nieves, and child. Their skin would be cocoa and coffee and motes of cherry melded with a few drops of cream. Then an icing border of tiny mermaids, nixies, selkies, and seahorses below, Pegasus, Icarus, and phoenix above.”

“Rose fondants, made with Turkish rosewater; coated in 70 per cent couverture chocolate from hand-sorted Porcelana beans. I remove the embryo myself in order to limit the bitterness. Eighty-five hours conching; then tempered on marble, my favorite way, then dip the fondant, leave to set and add a crystallized rose petal on top. The result smells like roses; chocolate-red; full-throated; the petals like the bloom of a grape.”

“After almost 70 years of being paralysed into silence by the Zionist venom — the accusation of anti-Semitism and Holocaust denial — the world in general and the West in particular, have continued to tolerate Israel’s unrelenting arrogance, barbarity, and contemptuous disregard for international law including the UDHR. That venom has prevented condemnation of incalculable cheating, lying, stealing, murdering, and ruthless violation of the legal and natural human rights of the Palestinian people by a nation devoid of conscience, humanity, or any of the noble principles claimed by the religion which it claims to represent.”