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Everything That Mr Smallweed's Grandfather Ever Put Away In His Mind Was A Grub At First, And Is A Grub At Last. In All His Life He Has Never Bred A Single Butterfly.

-Charles Dickens

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Everything That Mr Smallweed's

Charles Dickens

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Everything That Mr Smallweed's Grandfather Ever Put Away In His Mind Was A Grub At First, And Is A Grub At Last. In All His Life He Has Never Bred A Single Butterfly.

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Think! I've Got Enough To Do, And Little Enough To Get For It, Without Thinking.

She Forgot To Be Shy At The Moment, In Honestly Warning Him Away From The Sunken Wreck He Had A Dream Of Raising; And Looked At Him With Eyes Which Assuredly, In Association With Her Patient Face, Her Fragile Figure, Her Spare Dress, And The Wind And Rain, Did Not Turn Him From His Purpose Of Helping Her.

It Is, As Mr. Rokesmith Says, A Matter Of Feeling, But Lor How Many Matters Are Matters Of Feeling!

Words Of Wisdom

Take Nothing On Its Looks; Take Everything On Evidence. There's No Better Rule.

It Was A Good Thing To Have A Couple Of Thousand People All Rigid And Frozen Together, In The Palm Of One's Hand.

But You Were Always A Good Man Of Business, Jacob,' Faltered Scrooge, Who Now Began To Apply This To Himself. Business!' Cried The Ghost, Wringing Its Hands Again. "mankind Was My Business; Charity, Mercy, Forbearance, And Benevolence, Were, All, My Business. The Deals Of My Trade Were But A Drop Of Water In The Comprehensive Ocean Of My Business!

There Are Some Upon This Earth Of Yours,' Returned The Spirit, 'who Lay Claim To Know Us, And Who Do Their Deeds Of Passion, Pride, Ill-will, Hatred, Envy, Bigotry, And Selfishness In Our Name; Who Are As Strange To Us And All Our Kith And Kin, As If They Had Never Lived. Remember That, And Charge Their Doings On Themselves, Not Us.

For The Rest Of His Life, Oliver Twist Remembers A Single Word Of Blessing Spoken To Him By Another Child Because This Word Stood Out So Strikingly From The Consistent Discouragement Around Him.

When You Drink Of The Water, Don't Forget The Spring From Which It Flows.

Procrastination Is The Thief Of Time, Collar Him.

Procrastination

The Very Dogs Were All Asleep, And The Flies, Drunk With Moist Sugar In The Grocer's Shop, Forgot Their Wings And Briskness, And Baked To Death In Dusty Corners Of The Window.

It Has Always Been My Opinion Since I First Possessed Such A Thing As An Opinion, That The Man Who Knows Only One Subject Is Next Tiresome To The Man Who Knows No Subject. Therefore, In The Course Of My Life I Have Taught Myself Whatever I Could, And Although I Am Not An Educated Man, I Am Able, I Am Thankful To Say, To Have An Intelligent Interest In Most Things.

Words Of Wisdom

Up The Two Terrace Flights Of Steps The Rain Ran Wildly, And Beat At The Great Door, Like A Swift Messenger Rousing Those Within;.

Miss Mills Replied, On General Principles, That The Cottage Of Content Was Better Than The Palace Of Cold Splendour, And That Where Love Was, All Was.

And O There Are Days In This Life, Worth Life And Worth Death.

It's Not Put Into His Head To Be Buried. It's Put Into His Head To Be Made Useful. You Hold Your Life On The Condition That To The Last You Shall Struggle Hard For It. Every Man Holds A Discovery On The Same Terms.

You Can Only Form The Minds Of Reasoning Animals Upon Facts: Nothing Else Will Ever Be Of Any Service To Them. Stick To Facts, Sir!

Go Ye, Who Rest So Placidly Upon The Sacred Bard Who Had Been Young, And When He Strung His Harp Was Old, And Had Never Seen The Righteous Forsaken, Or His Seed Begging Their Bread; Go, Teachers Of Content And Honest Pride, Into The Mine, The Mill, The Forge, The Squalid Depths Of Deepest Ignorance, And Uttermost Abyss Of Man's Neglect, And Say Can Any Hopeful Plant Spring Up In Air So Foul That It Extinguishes The Soul's Bright Torch As Fast As It Is Kindled!

One Great Blemish In The Popular Mind Of America And The Prolific Parent Of An Innumerable Brood Of Evils, Is Universal Distrust . . . You No Sooner Set Up An Idol Firmly, Than You Are Sure To Pull It Down And Dash It Into Fragments: And This Because Directly You Reward A Benefactor, Or A Public Servant, You Distrust Him, Merely Because He Is Rewarded . . . . Any Man Who Attains A High Place Among You, From The President Downwards, May Date His Downfall From That Moment.

I Cannot Help It; Reason Has Nothing To Do With It; I Love Her Against Reason-but Who Would As Soon Love Me For My Own Sake, As She Would Love The Beggar At The Corner.

It Is A Silent, Shady Place, With A Paved Courtyard So Full Of Echoes, That Sometimes I Am Tempted To Believe That Faint Responses To The Noises Of Old Times Linger There Yet, And That These Ghosts Of Sound Haunt My Footsteps As I Pace It Up And Down.

For Your Popular Rumour, Unlike The Rolling Stone Of The Proverb, Is One Which Gathers A Deal Of Moss In Its Wanderings Up And Down.

The Great Grindstone, Earth, Had Turned When Mr. Lorry Looked Out Again, And The Sun Was Red On The Courtyard. But, The Lesser Grindstone Stood Alone There In The Calm Morning Air, With Red Upon It That The Sun Had Never Give, And Would Never Take Away.

The Air Came Laden With The Fragrance It Caught Upon Its Way, And The Bees, Upborne Upon Its Scented Breath, Hummed Forth Their Drowsy Satisfaction As They Floated By.

She Was Too Intent Upon Her Work, And Too Earnest In What She Said, And Too Composed And Quiet Altogether, To Be On The Watch For Any Look He Might Direct Towards Her In Reply; So The Shaft Of His Ungrateful Glance Fell Harmless, And Did Not Wound Her.

Try To Do Unto Others As You Would Have Them Do To You, And Do Not Be Discouraged If They Fail Sometimes. It Is Much Better That They Should Fail Than You Should.

Consider Nothing Impossible, Then Treat Possiblities As Probabilities.

Come, Then," Returned The Nephew Gaily. "what Right Have You To Be Dismal? What Reason Have You To Be Morose? You're Rich Enough.

Christmas Carol

Let Me See You Ride A Donkey Over My Green Again, And As Sure As You Have A Head Upon Your Shoulders, I'll Knock Your Bonnet Off, And Tread Upon It!

External Heat And Cold Had Little Influence On Scrooge. No Warmth Could Warm, No Wintry Weather Chill Him. No Wind That Blew Was Bitterer Than He, No Falling Snow Was More Intent Upon Its Purpose, No Pelting Rain Less Open To Entreaty.

It Was A Dagger In The Haughty Father's Heart, An Arrow In His Brain, To See How The Flesh And Blood He Could Not Disown Clung To This Obscure Stranger, And He Sitting By. Not That He Cared To Whom His Daughter Turned, Or From Whom Turned Away. The Swift Sharp Agony Struck Through Him, As He Thought Of What His Son Might Do.

My Daughter, There Are Times Of Moral Danger When The Hardest Virtuous Resolution To Form Is Flight, And When The Most Heroic Bravery Is Flight.

Words Of Wisdom

Nothing Of What Is Nobly Done Is Ever Lost.

I Thought It Very Touching To See These Two Women, Coarse And Shabby And Beaten, So United; To See What They Could Be To One Another; To See How They Felt For One Another, How The Heart Of Each To Each Was Softened By The Hard Trials Of Their Lives. I Think The Best Side Of Such People Is Almost Hidden From Us. What The Poor Are To The Poor Is Little Known, Excepting To Themselves And God.

I Looked At The Stars, And Considered How Awful It Would Be For A Man To Turn His Face Up To Them As He Froze To Death, And See No Help Or Pity In All The Glittering Multitude.

"i Fear Your Kind And Open Communication, Which Has Rendered Me More Painfully Conscious Of My Own Defects, Has Not Improved Me," Sighed Kate.

"ghost Of The Future," He Exclaimed, "i Fear You More Than Any Spectre I Have Seen. But As I Know Your Purpose Is To Do Me Good, And As I Hope To Live To Be Another Man From What I Was, I Am Prepared To Bear You Company, And Do It With A Thankful Heart. Will You Not Speak To Me?"

Scattered Wits Take A Long Time In Picking Up.

They Are So Filthy And Bestial That No Honest Man Would Admit One Into His House For A Water-closet Doormat.

And This Is The Eternal Law. For, Evil Often Stops Short At Istelf And Dies With The Doer Of It! But Good, Never.

It Is The Last Straw That Breaks The Camel's Back.

Have You Ever Had The Sensation Of Looking At Someone For The First Time And Ever So Quickly The Past And Future Seem To Fuse ? Does That Not Mean Something ? That We Felt So Much, So Deeply, Before Even Speaking?

O, If The Deeds Of Human Creatures Could Be Traced To Their Source, How Beautiful Would Even Death Appear; For How Much Charity, Mercy, And Purified Affection Would Be Seen To Have Their Growth In Dusty Graves!

All Knives And Forks Were Working Away At A Rate That Was Quite Alarming; Very Few Words Were Spoken; And Everybody Seemed To Eat His Utmost, In Self Defence, As If A Famine Were Expected To Set In Before Breakfast-time To-morrow Morning, And It Had Become High Time To Assert The First Law Of Nature.

I Never Could Have Done What I Have Done Without The Habits Of Punctuality, Order, And Diligence, Without The Determination To Concentrate Myself On One Subject At A Time.

Her Heart-is Given Him, With All Its Love And Truth. She Would Joyfully Die With Him, Or, Better Than That, Die For Him. She Knows He Has Failings, But She Thinks They Have Grown Up Through His Being Like One Cast Away, For The Want Of Something To Trust In, And Care For, And Think Well Of.

There Was Something Very Comfortable In Having Plenty Of Stationery.

The Wide Stare Stared Itself Out For One While; The Sun Went Down In A Red, Green, Golden Glory; The Stars Came Out In The Heavens, And The Fire-flies Mimicked Them In The Lower Air, As Men May Feebly Imitate The Goodness Of A Better Order Of Beings; The Long Dusty Roads And The Interminable Plains Were In Repose-and So Deep A Hush Was On The Sea, That It Scarcely Whispered Of The Time When It Shall Give Up Its Dead.

Time Was With Most Of Us, When Christmas Day, Encircling All Our Limited World Like A Magic Ring, Left Nothing Out For Us To Miss Or Seek; Bound Together All Our Home Enjoyments, Affections, And Hopes; Grouped Everything And Everyone Round The Christmas Fire, And Make The Little Picture Shining In Our Bright Young Eyes, Complete.

The Last Trumpet Ever To Be Sounded Shall Blow Even Algebra To Wreck.

The Most Important Thing In Life Is To Stop Saying 'i Wish' And Start Saying 'i Will.' Consider Nothing Impossible, Then Treat Possibilities As Probabilities.

Friendless I Can Never Be, For All Mankind Are My Kindred, And I Am On Ill Terms With No One Member Of My Great Family.

I Wear The Chains I Forged In Life.

Of All Bad Listeners, The Worst And Most Terrible To Encounter Is The Man Who Is So Fond Of Listening That He Wishes To Hear, Not Only Your Conversation, But That Of Every Other Person In The Room.

I Only Know That It Was, And Ceased To Be; And That I Have Written, And There I Leave It.

The More Man Knows Of Man, The Better For The Common Brotherhood Among Men.

I See A Beautiful City And A Brilliant People Rising From This Abyss. I See The Lives For Which I Lay Down My Life, Peaceful, Useful, Prosperous And Happy. I See That I Hold A Sanctuary In Their Hearts, And In The Hearts Of Their Descendants, Generations Hence. It Is A Far, Far Better Thing That I Do, Than I Have Ever Done; It Is A Far, Far Better Rest That I Go To Than I Have Ever Known.

Discipline Must Be Maintained.

Now, What I Want Is, Facts. . . . Facts Alone Are Wanted In Life.

For It Is Good To Be Children Sometimes, And Never Better Than At Christmas, When Its Mighty Founder Was A Child Himself.

As I Said Just Now, The World Has Gone Past Me. I Don't Blame It; But I No Longer Understand It. Tradesmen Are Not The Same As They Used To Be, Apprentices Are Not The Same, Business Is Not The Same, Business Commodities Are Not The Same. Seven-eighths Of My Stock Is Old-fashioned. I Am An Old-fashioned Man In An Old-fashioned Shop, In A Street That Is Not The Same As I Remember It. I Have Fallen Behind The Time, And Am Too Old To Catch It Again.

"the Twins No Longer Derive Their Sustenance From Nature's Founts - In Short," Said Mr. Micawber, In One Of His Bursts Of Confidence, "they Are Weaned..."

It's Over, And Can't Be Helped, And That's One Consolation, As They Always Say In Turkey, When They Cut The Wrong Man's Head Off.

You Know What I Am Going To Say. I Love You. What Other Men May Mean When They Use That Expression, I Cannot Tell. What I Mean Is That I Am Under The Influence Of Some Tremendous Attraction Which I Have Resisted In Vain, And Which Overmasters Me. You Could Draw Me To Fire, You Could Draw Me To Water, You Could Draw Me To The Gallows, You Could Draw Me To Any Death, You Could Draw Me To Anything I Have Most Avoided, You Could Draw Me To Any Exposure And Disgrace. This And The Confusion Of My Thoughts, So That I Am Fit For Nothing, Is What I Mean By Your Being The Ruin Of Me.

Sadly, Sadly, The Sun Rose; It Rose Upon No Sadder Sight Than The Man Of Good Abilities And Good Emotions, Incapable Of Their Directed Exercise, Incapable Of His Own Help And His Own Happiness, Sensible Of The Blight On Him, And Resigning Himself To Let It Eat Him Away.

Surprises, Like Misfortunes, Seldom Come Alone.

Words Of Wisdom

Then Tell Wind And Fire Where To Stop," Returned Madame; "but Don't Tell Me.

Tale Of Two Cities

"vell," Said Mr. Weller, "now I S'pose He'll Want To Call Some Witnesses To Speak To His Character, Or P'raps To Prove A Alleybi. I've Been A Turnin' The Bis'ness Over In My Mind, And He May Make His-self Easy, Sammy. I've Got Some Friends As'll Do Either For Him, But My Adwice 'ud Be This Here-never Mind The Character, And Stick To The Alleybi. Nothing Like A Alleybi, Sammy, Nothing."

I Must Do Something Or I Shall Wear My Heart Away.

Now, I Return To This Young Fellow. And The Communication I Have Got To Make Is, That He Has Great Expectations.

Upon The Purple Tree-tops Far Away, And On The Green Height Near At Hand Up Which The Shades Were Slowly Creeping, There Was An Equal Hush. Between The Real Landscape And Its Shadow In The Water, There Was No Division; Both Were So Untroubled And Clear, And, While So Fraught With Solemn Mystery Of Life And Death, So Hopefully Reassuring To The Gazer's Soothed Heart, Because So Tenderly And Mercifully Beautiful.

I Have Been, As The Phrase Is, Liberally Educated, And Am Fit For Nothing.

I Don't Feel Any Vulgar Gratitude To You[for Helping Me]. I Almost Feel As If You Ought To Be Grateful To Me, For Giving You The Opportunity Of Enjoying The Luxury Of Generosity. . . I May Have Come Into The World Expressly For The Purpose Of Increasing Your Stock Of Happiness. I May Have Been Born To Be A Benefactor To You, By Giving You An Opportunity Of Assisting Me.

Christmas Was Close At Hand, In All His Bluff And Hearty Honesty; It Was The Season Of Hospitality, Merriment, And Open-heartedness; The Old Year Was Preparing, Like An Ancient Philosopher, To Call His Friends Around Him, And Amidst The Sound Of Feasting And Revelry To Pass Gently And Calmly Away.

We Are So Very 'umble.

It Being A Remarkable Fact In Theatrical History, But One Long Since Established Beyond Dispute, That It Is A Hopeless Endeavor To Attract People To A Theatre Unless They Can Be First Brought To Believe That They Will Never Get In.

The Plain Rule Is To Do Nothing In The Dark, To Be A Party To Nothing Underhanded Or Mysterious, And Never To Put His Foot Where He Cannot See The Ground.

She Writhes Under Her Life. A Woman More Angry, Passionate, Reckless, And Revengeful Never Lived.

The Talker Has Found A Hearer But Not A Listener; And Though He May Talk His Very Best For His Own Sake, You Will Find That His Mental Movements Are Erratic: They Have No Fixed Centre And No Definite Object. His Talk Is Like The Water Of A Canal Whose Banks Have Given Way, Which Rolls Aimlessly Hither And Thither, Without Fulfilling Any Useful Function, Though It Is The Same Water Which Was So Helpful And Serviceable, When It Was Confined Within Clearly Marked Limits By The Restraining Force Of Its Earthy Boundaries.

Pale And Pinched-up Faces Hovered About The Windows Where Was Tempting Food; Hungry Eyes Wandered Over The Profusion Guarded By One Thin Sheet Of Brittle Glass--an Iron Wall To Them; Half-naked Shivering Figures Stopped To Gaze At Chinese Shawls And Golden Stuffs Of India.

A Modest Ring At The Bell At Length Allayed Her Fears, And Miss Benton, Hurrying Into Her Own Room And Shutting Herself Up, In Order That She Might Preserve That Appearance Of Being Taken By Surprise Which Is So Essential To The Polite Reception Of Visitors, Awaited Their Coming With A Smiling Countenance.

And I Am Quite Serious When I Say That I Do Not Believe There Are, On The Whole Earth Besides, So Many Intensified Bores As In These United States.

Let The Tears Which Fell, And The Broken Words Which Were Exchanged In The Long Close Embrace Between The Orphans, Be Sacred. A Father, Sister, And Mother, Were Gained, And Lost, In That One Moment. Joy And Grief Were Mingled In The Cup; But There Were No Bitter Tears: For Even Grief Arose So Softened, And Clothed In Such Sweet And Tender Recollections, That It Became A Solemn Pleasure, And Lost All Character Of Pain.

Heaped On The Floor Were Turkeys, Geese, Game, Poultry, Brawn, Great Joints Of Meat, Sucking Pigs, Long Wreaths Of Sausages, Mince-pies, Plum-puddings, Bartrels Of Oysters, Re-hot Chestnuts, Cherry-cheeked Apples, Juicy Oranges, Luscious Pears, Immense Twelfth-cakes, And Seething Bowls Of Punch That Made The Chamber Dim With Their Delicious Steam.

The Beating Of My Heart Was So Violent And Wild That I Felt As If My Life Were Breaking From Me.

If You Could Say, With Truth, To Your Own Solitary Heart, To-night, 'i Have Secured To Myself The Love And Attachment, The Gratitude Or Respect, Of No Human Creature; I Have Won Myself A Tender Place In No Regard; I Have Done Nothing Good Or Serviceable To Be Remembered By!' Your Seventy-eight Years Would Be Seventy-eight Heavy Curses; Would They Not?

A Man Can Well Afford To Be As Bold As Brass, My Good Fellow, When He Gets Gold In Exchange!

Mrs Joe Was A Very Clean Housekeeper, But Had An Exquisite Art Of Making Her Clenliness More Umcomfortable And Unacceptable Than Dirt Itself. Cleanliness Is Next To Godliness, And Some People Do The Same By Their Religion.

Judiciously Show A Cat Milk, If You Wish Her To Thirst For It. Judiciously Show A Dog His Natural Prey, If You Wish Him To Bring It Down One Day.

In The Majority Of Cases, Conscience Is An Elastic And Very Flexible Article

I Only Ask To Be Free. The Butterflies Are Free. Mankind Will Surely Not Deny To Harold Skimpole What It Concedes To The Butterflies.

Please, Sir, I Want Some More.

Poetry's Unnat'ral; No Man Ever Talked Poetry 'cept A Beadle On Boxin' Day.

There Are Many Pleasant Fictions Of The Law In Constant Operation, But There Is Not One So Pleasant Or Practically Humorous As That Which Supposes Every Man To Be Of Equal Value In Its Impartial Eye, And The Benefits Of All Laws To Be Equally Attainable By All Men, Without The Smallest Reference To The Furniture Of Their Pockets.

Pride Is One Of The Seven Deadly Sins; But It Cannot Be The Pride Of A Mother In Her Children, For That Is A Compound Of Two Cardinal Virtues - Faith And Hope.

All Other Swindlers Upon Earth Are Nothing To The Self-swindlers, And With Such Pretences Did I Cheat Myself.

Life Is Made Of Ever So Many Partings Welded Together.

We Were Equals Afterwards, As We Had Been Before; But, Afterwards At Quiet Times When I Sat Looking At Joe And Thinking About Him, I Had A New Sensation Of Feeling Conscious That I Was Looking Up To Joe In My Heart.

Eccentricities Of Genius.

In The Destroyer's Steps There Spring Up Bright Creations That Defy His Power, And His Dark Path Becomes A Way Of Light To Heaven.

United Metropolitan Improved Hot Muffin And Crumpet Baking And Punctual Delivery Company.

I Will Honor Christmas In My Heart, And Try To Keep It All The Year.

In Seasons Of Pestilence, Some Of Us Will Have A Secret Attraction To The Disease--a Terrible Passing Inclination To Die Of It.

As I Never Saw My Father Or My Mother, And Never Saw Any Likeness Of Either Of Them (for Their Days Were Long Before The Days Of Photographs), My First Fancies Regarding What They Were Like, Were Unreasonably Derived From Their Tombstones. The Shape Of The Letters On My Father's, Gave Me An Odd Idea That He Was A Square, Stout, Dark Man, With Curly Black Hair. From The Character And Turn Of The Inscription, "also Georgiana Wife Of The Above", I Drew A Childish Conclusion That My Mother Was Freckled And Sickly.

He Lowered The Window, And Looked Out At The Rising Sun. There Was A Ridge Of Ploughed Land, With A Plough Upon It Where It Had Been Left Last Night When The Horses Were Unyoked; Beyond, A Quiet Coppice-wood, In Which Many Leaves Of Burning Red And Golden Yellow Still Remained Upon The Trees. Though The Earth Was Cold And Wet, The Sky Was Clear, And The Sun Rose Bright, Placid, And Beautiful.

Oh, A Dainty Plant Is The Ivy Green, That Creepeth O'er Ruins Old! Of Right Choice Food Are His Meals, I Ween, In His Cell So Lone And Cold. Creeping Where No Life Is Seen, A Rare Old Plant Is The Ivy Green.

The Blossom Is Blighted, The Leaf Is Withered, The God Of Day Goes Down Upon The Dreary Scene, And In Short You Are For Ever Floored.

The Sun Himself Is Weak When He First Rises, And Gathers Strength And Courage As The Day Gets On.

He Describes It As A Large Apartment, With A Red Brick Floor And A Capacious Chimney; The Ceiling Garnished With Hams, Sides Of Bacon, And Ropes Of Onions.

"i Know Quite Enough Of Myself," Said Bella, With A Charming Air Of Being Inclined To Give Herself Up As A Bad Job, "and I Don't Improve Upon Acquaintance..."

For The Night-wind Has A Dismal Trick Of Wandering Round And Round A Building Of That Sort, And Moaning As It Goes; And Of Trying, With Its Unseen Hand, The Windows And The Doors; And Seeking Out Some Crevices By Which To Enter.

And How Did Little Tim Behave?” Asked Mrs Cratchit, When She Had Rallied Bob On His Credulity And Bob Had Hugged His Daughter To His Heart’s Content. “as Good As Gold,” Said Bob, “and Better. Somehow He Gets Thoughtful, Sitting By Himself So Much, And Thinks The Strangest Things You Ever Heard. He Told Me, Coming Home, That He Hoped The People Saw Him In The Church, Because He Was A Cripple, And It Might Be Pleasant To Them To Remember Upon Christmas Day, Who Made Lame Beggars Walk, And Blind Men See.

A Boy's Story Is The Best That Is Ever Told.

Look Round And Round Upon This Bare Bleak Plain, And See Even Here, Upon A Winter's Day, How Beautiful The Shadows Are! Alas! It Is The Nature Of Their Kind To Be So. The Loveliest Things In Life... Are But Shadows; And They Come And Go, And Change And Fade Away, As Rapidly As These.

A Very Little Key Will Open A Very Heavy Door.

There Is A Drowsy State, Between Sleeping And Waking, When You Dream More In Five Minutes With Your Eyes Half Open, And Yourself Half Conscious Of Everything That Is Passing Around You, Than You Would In Five Nights With Your Eyes Fast Closed, And Your Senses Wrapt In Perfect Unconsciousness. At Such Time, A Mortal Knows Just Enough Of What His Mind Is Doing, To Form Some Glimmering Conception Of Its Mighty Powers, Its Bounding From Earth And Spurning Time And Space, When Freed From The Restraint Of Its Corporeal Associate.

Are You Thankful For Not Being Young?' 'yes, Sir. If I Was Young, It Would All Have To Be Gone Through Again, And The End Would Be A Weary Way Off, Don't You See?

To Bring Deserving Things Down By Setting Undeserving Things Up Is One Of Its Perverted Delights; And There Is No Playing Fast And Loose With The Truth, In Any Game, Without Growing The Worse For It.

Words Of Wisdom

... Treachery Don't Come Natural To Beaming Youth; But Trust And Pity, Love And Constancy,-they Do, Thank God!

Words Of Wisdom

Cows Are My Passion. What I Have Ever Sighed For Has Been To Retreat To A Swiss Farm, And Live Entirely Surrounded By Cows - And China.

A Dream, All A Dream, That Ends In Nothing, And Leaves The Sleeper Where He Lay Down, But I Wish You To Know That You Inspired It.

It Is Not Easy To Walk Alone In The Country Without Musing Upon Something.

Polly Put The Kettle On, We'll All Have Tea.

Christmas May Not Bring A Single Thing; Still, It Gives Me A Song To Sing.

Bleak, Dark, And Piercing Cold, It Was A Night For The Well-housed And Fed To Draw Round The Bright Fire, And Thank God They Were At Home; And For The Homeless Starving Wretch To Lay Him Down And Die. Many Hunger-worn Outcasts Close Their Eyes In Our Bare Streets At Such Times, Who, Let Their Crimes Have Been What They May, Can Hardly Open Them In A More Bitter World.

She's The Sort Of Woman Now,' Said Mould, . . . 'one Would Almost Feel Disposed To Bury For Nothing: And Do It Neatly, Too!

Dead, Your Majesty. Dead, My Lords And Gentlemen. Dead, Right Reverends And Wrong Reverends Of Every Order. Dead, Men And Women, Born With Heavenly Compassion In Your Hearts. And Dying Thus Around Us Every Day.

There Either Is Or Is Not, That’s The Way Things Are. The Colour Of The Day. The Way It Felt To Be A Child. The Saltwater On Your Sunburnt Legs. Sometimes The Water Is Yellow, Sometimes It’s Red. But What Colour It May Be In Memory, Depends On The Day. I’m Not Going To Tell You The Story The Way It Happened. I’m Going To Tell It The Way I Remember It.

Dignity, And Even Holiness Too, Sometimes, Are More Questions Of Coat And Waistcoat Than Some People Imagine.

Oliver Twist Has Asked For More!

There Was A Frosty Rime Upon The Trees, Which, In The Faint Light Of The Clouded Moon, Hung Upon The Smaller Branches Like Dead Garlands.

She Was More Than Human To Me. She Was A Fairy, A Sylph. I Don't Know What She Was, Anything That No One Ever Saw, And Everything That Everybody Ever Wanted. I Was Swallowed Up In An Abyss Of Love In An Instant. There Was No Pausing On The Brink, No Looking Down, Or Looking Back. I Was Gone, Headlong, Before I Had Sense To Say A Word To Her.

"as I Think I Told You Once Before," Said I, "it Is You Who Have Been, In Your Greed And Cunning, Against All The World. It May Be Profitable To You To Reflect, In Future, That There Never Were Greed And Cunning In The World Yet, That Did Not Do Too Much, And Overreach Themselves. It Is As Certain As Death."

Words Of Wisdom

It Was Darkly Rumoured That The Butler, Regarding Him With Favour Such As That Stern Man Had Never Shown Before To Mortal Boy, Had Sometimes Mingled Porter With His Table Beer To Make Him Strong.

After Tea, We Discussed A Variety Of Topics Before The Fire; And Mrs. Micawber Was Good Enough To Sing Us (in A Small, Thin, Flat Voice, Which I Remembered To Have Considered, When I First Knew Her, The Very Table-beer Of Acoustics) The Favourite Ballads Of "the Dashing White Sergeant", And "little Tafflin".

We Changed Again, And Yet Again, And It Was Now Too Late And Too Far To Go Back, And I Went On. And The Mists Had All Solemnly Risen Now, And The World Lay Spread Before Me.

"hope To The Last!" Said Newman, Clapping Him On The Back. "always Hope; That's Dear Boy. Never Leave Off Hoping; It Don't Answer. Do You Mind Me, Nick? It Don't Answer. Don't Leave A Stone Unturned. It's Always Something, To Know You've Done The Most You Could. But, Don't Leave Off Hoping, Or It's Of No Use Doing Anything. Hope, Hope, To The Last!"

I Found Every Breath Of Air, And Every Scent, And Every Flower And Leaf And Blade Of Grass And Every Passing Cloud, And Everything In Nature, More Beautiful And Wonderful To Me Than I Had Ever Found It Yet. This Was My First Gain From My Illness. How Little I Had Lost, When The Wide World Was So Full Of Delight For Me.

To Have A Cricket On The Hearth Is The Luckiest Thing In All The World!

Ah, Miss Harriet, It Would Do Us No Harm To Remember Oftener Than We Do, That Vices Are Sometimes Only Virtues Carried To Excess!

Credit Is A System Whereby A Person Who Can Not Pay Gets Another Person Who Can Not Pay To Guarantee That He Can Pay.

Guarantees That

A Commission Of Haberdashers Could Alone Have Reported What The Rest Of Her Poor Dress Was Made Of, But It Had A Strong General Resemblance To Seaweed, With Here And There A Gigantic Tea-leaf. Her Shawl Looked Particularly Like A Tea-leaf After Long Infusion.

"it's Nothing," Returned Mrs Chick. "it's Merely Change Of Weather. We Must Expect Change."

Words Of Wisdom

The Weathercocks On Spires And Housetops Were Mysterious With Hints Of Stormy Wind, And Pointed, Like So Many Ghostly Fingers, Out To Dangerous Seas, Where Fragments Of Great Wrecks Were Drifting, Perhaps, And Helpless Men Were Rocked Upon Them Into A Sleep As Deep As The Unfathomable Waters.

Rattle Me Out Of Bed Early, Set Me Going, Give Me As Short A Time As You Like To Bolt My Meals In, And Keep Me At It. Keep Me Always At It, And I'll Keep You Always At It, You Keep Somebody Else Always At It. There You Are With The Whole Duty Of Man In A Commercial Country.

Mrs. Lammle's Manner Changed Under The Poor Silly Girl's Embraces, And She Turned Extremely Pale: Directing One Appealing Look, First To Mrs. Boffin, And Then To Mr. Boffin. Both Understood Her Instantly, With A More Delicate Subtlety Than Much Better Educated People, Whose Perception Came Less Directly From The Heart, Could Have Brought To Bear Upon The Case.

Trifles Make The Sum Of Life.

Words Of Wisdom

The Boy Was Lying, Fast Asleep, On A Rude Bed Upon The Floor; So Pale With Anxiety, And Sadness, And The Closeness Of His Prison, That He Looked Like Death; Not Death As It Shews In Shroud And Coffin, But In The Guise It Wears When Life Has Just Departed; When A Young And Gentle Spirit Has, But An Instant, Fled To Heaven: And The Gross Air Of The World Has Not Had Time To Breathe Upon The Changing Dust It Hallowed.

And Still I Stood Looking At The House, Thinking How Happy I Should Be If I Lived There With Her, And Knowing That I Never Was Happy With Her, But Always Miserable.

Think Now And Then That There Is A Man Who Would Give His Life, To Keep A Life You Love Beside You.

You Touch Some Of The Reasons For My Going, Not For My Staying Away.

I Loved You Madly; In The Distasteful Work Of The Day, In The Wakeful Misery Of The Night, Girded By Sordid Realities, Or Wandering Through Paradises And Hells Of Visions Into Which I Rushed, Carrying Your Image In My Arms, I Loved You Madly.

I Find My Breath Gets Short, But It Seldom Gets Longer As A Man Gets Older. I Take It As It Comes, And Make The Most Of It. That's The Best Way, Ain't It?

Words Of Wisdom

It Was A Harder Day's Journey Than Yesterday's, For There Were Long And Weary Hills To Climb; And In Journeys, As In Life, It Is A Great Deal Easier To Go Down Hill Than Up. However, They Kept On, With Unabated Perseverance, And The Hill Has Not Yet Lifted Its Face To Heaven That Perseverance Will Not Gain The Summit Of At Last.

What Is Natural In Me, Is Natural In Many Other Men, I Infer, And So I Am Not Afraid To Write That I Never Had Loved Steerforth Better Than When The Ties That Bound Me To Him Were Broken. In The Keen Distress Of The Discovery Of His Unworthiness, I Thought More Of All That Was Brilliant In Him, I Softened More Towards All That Was Good In Him, I Did More Justice To The Qualities That Might Have Made Him A Man Of A Noble Nature And A Great Name, Than Ever I Had Done In The Height Of My Devotion To Him.

A Man Must Take The Fat With The Lean.

I Could Not Help Wondering In My Own Mind....how It Came To Pass That Our Joints Of Meat Were Of Such Extraordinary Shapes - And Whether Our Butcher Contracted For All The Deformed Sheep That Came Into The World; But I Kept My Reflections To Myself.

I Made A Compact With Myself That In My Person Literature Should Stand By Itself, Of Itself, And For Itself.

The Memories Which Peaceful Country Scenes Call Up, Are Not Of This World, Nor Of Its Thoughts And Hopes. Their Gentle Influence May Teach Us How To Weave Fresh Garlands For The Graves Of Those We Loved: May Purify Our Thoughts, And Bear Down Before It Old Enmity And Hatred; But Beneath All This, There Lingers, In The Least Reflective Mind, A Vague And Half-formed Consciousness Of Having Held Such Feelings Long Before, In Some Remote And Distant Time, Which Calls Up Solemn Thoughts Of Distant Times To Come, And Bends Down Pride And Worldliness Beneath It.

The American Elite Is Almost Beyond Redemption. . . . Moral Relativism Has Set In So Deeply That The Gilded Classes Have Become Incapable Of Discerning Right From Wrong. Everything Can Be Explained Away, Especially By Journalists. Life Is One Great Moral Mush--sophistry Washed Down With Chardonnay. The Ordinary Citizens, Thank Goodness, Still Adhere To Absolutes.... It Is They Who Have Saved The Republic From Creeping Degradation While Their 'betters' Were Derelict.

Fog Everywhere. Fog Up The River Where It Flows Among Green Airs And Meadows; Fog Down The River, Where It Rolls Defiled Among The Tiers Of Shipping, And The Waterside Pollutions Of A Great (and Dirty) City.... Chance People On The Bridges Peeping Over The Parapets Into A Nether Sky Of Fog, With Fog All Round Them, As If They Were Up In A Balloon And Hanging In The Misty Clouds.

Some Medical Beast Had Revived Tar-water In Those Days As A Fine Medicine, And Mrs. Joe Always Kept A Supply Of It In The Cupboard; Having A Belief In Its Virtues Correspondent To Its Nastiness. At The Best Of Times, So Much Of This Elixir Was Administered To Me As A Choice Restorative, That I Was Conscious Of Going About, Smelling Like A New Fence.

I Don't Like That Sort Of School... Where The Bright Childish Imagination Is Utterly Discouraged... Where I Have Never Seen Among The Pupils, Whether Boys Or Girls, Anything But Little Parrots And Small Calculating Machines.

The World Belongs To Those Who Set Out To Conquer It Armed With Self Confidence And Good Humour.

Self Confidence

An Idea, Like A Ghost, Must Be Spoken To A Little Before It Will Explain Itself.

It Is The Fate Of Most Men Who Mingle With The World, And Attain Even The Prime Of Life, To Make Many Real Friends, And Lose Them In The Course Of Nature. It Is The Fate Of All Authors Or Chroniclers To Create Imaginary Friends, And Lose Them In The Course Of Art. Nor Is This The Full Extent Of Their Misfortunes; For They Are Required To Furnish An Account Of Them Besides.

God Bless Us Every One! Said Tiny Tim, The Last Of All.

Why Then We Should Drop Into Poetry.

The New Testament Is The Very Best Book That Ever Was Or Ever Will Be Known In The World.

We Can Refute Assertions, But Who Can Refute Silence?

Change Begets Change.

'there May Be Some, Perhaps - I Don't Know That There Are - Who Abuse His Kindness,' Said Mr. Wickfield. 'never Be One Of Those, Trotwood, In Anything. He Is The Least Suspicious Of Mankind; And Whether That's A Merit, Or Whether It's A Blemish, It Deserves Consideration In All Dealings With The Doctor, Great Or Small.

He Has The Power To Render Us Happy Or Unhappy; To Make Our Service Light Or Burdensome; A Pleasure Or A Toil. Say That His Power Lies In Words And Looks; In Things So Slight And Insignificant That It Is Impossible To Add And Count 'em Up: What Then? The Happiness He Gives, Is Quite As Great As If It Cost A Fortune.

The More Especially, As In My Juvenile Frankness, I Took Some Credit To Myself For Being So Confidential And Felt That I Was Quite The Patron Of My Two Respectful Entertainers.

One Should Never Be Ashamed To Cry. Tears Are Rain On The Dust Of Earth.

[s]he Stood For Some Moments Gazing At The Sisters, With Affection Beaming In One Eye, And Calculation Shining Out Of The Other.

Mr. Bazzard's Father, Being A Norfolk Farmer, Would Have Furiously Laid About Him With A Flail, A Pitch-fork, And Every Agricultural Implement Available For Assaulting Purposes, On The Slightest Hint Of His Son's Having Written A Play.

"my Comfort Is," Said Susan, Looking Back At Mr. Dombey, "that I Have Told A Piece Of Truth This Day Which Ought To Have Been Told Long Before And Can't Be Told Too Often Or Too Plain..."

I See A Beautiful City And A Brilliant People Rising From This Abyss, And, In Their Struggles To Be Truly Free, In Their Triumphs And Defeats, Through Long Years To Come, I See The Evil Of This Time And Of The Previous Time Of Which This Is The Natural Birth, Gradually Making Expiation For Itself And Wearing Out.

Papa, Potatoes, Poultry, Prunes And Prism, Are All Very Good Words For The Lips.

A Tender Young Cork, However, Would Have Had No More Chance Against A Pair Of Corkscrews, Or A Tender Young Tooth Against A Pair Of Dentists, Or A Little Shuttlecock Against Two Battledores, Than I Had Against Uriah And Mrs. Heep. They Did Just What They Liked With Me; And Wormed Things Out Of Me That I Had No Desire To Tell, With A Certainty I Blush To Think Of.

He Wore A Sprinkling Of Powder Upon His Head, As If To Make Himself Look Benevolent; But If That Were His Purpose, He Would Perhaps Have Done Better To Powder His Countenance Also, For There Was Something In Its Very Wrinkles, And In His Cold Restless Eye, Which Seemed To Tell Of Cunning That Would Announce Itself In Spite Of Him.

And It Is Not A Slight Thing When They, Who Are So Fresh From God, Love Us.

How Many Families, Whose Members Have Been Dispersed And Scattered Far And Wide, In The Restless Struggles Of Life, Are Then Reunited, And Meet Once Again In That Happy State Of Companionship And Mutual Goodwill, Which Is A Source Of Such Pure And Unalloyed Delight; And One So Incompatible With The Cares And Sorrows Of The World, That The Religious Belief Of The Most Civilized Nations, And The Rude Traditions Of The Roughest Savages, Alike Number It Among The First Joys Of A Future Condition Of Existence, Provided For The Blessed And Happy!

For Nature Gives To Every Time And Season Some Beauties Of Its Own; And From Morning To Night, As From The Cradle To The Grave, It Is But A Succession Of Changes So Gentle And Easy That We Can Scarcely Mark Their Progress.

If I May So Express It, I Was Steeped In Dora. I Was Not Merely Over Head And Ears In Love With Her, But I Was Saturated Through And Through. Enough Love Might Have Been Wrung Out Of Me, Metaphorically Speaking, To Drown Anybody In; And Yet There Would Have Remained Enough Within Me, And All Over Me, To Pervade My Entire Existence.

You Should Keep Dogs-fine Animals-sagacious.

You Are Hard At Work Madam ," Said The Man Near Her. Yes," Answered Madam Defarge ; " I Have A Good Deal To Do." What Do You Make, Madam ?" Many Things." For Instance ---" For Instance," Returned Madam Defarge , Composedly , Shrouds." The Man Moved A Little Further Away, As Soon As He Could, Feeling It Mightily Close And Oppressive .

Your Sex Have Such A Surprising Animosity Against One Another, When You Do Differ.

She Dotes On Poetry, Sir. She Adores It; I May Say That Her Whole Soul And Mind Are Wound Up, And Entwined With It. She Has Produced Some Delightful Pieces, Herself, Sir. You May Have Met With Her 'ode To An Expiring Frog,' Sir.

The Night Was Dark, And A Cold Wind Blew, Driving The Clouds, Furiously And Fast, Before It. There Was One Black, Gloomy Mass That Seemed To Follow Him: Not Hurrying In The Wild Chase With The Others, But Lingering Sullenly Behind, And Gliding Darkly And Stealthily On. He Often Looked Back At This, And, More Than Once, Stopped To Let It Pass Over; But, Somehow, When He Went Forward Again, It Was Still Behind Him, Coming Mournfully And Slowly Up, Like A Shadowy Funeral Train.

Morning Drew On Apace. The Air Became More Sharp And Piercing, As Its First Dull Hue: The Death Of Night, Rather Than The Birth Of Day: Glimmered Faintly In The Sky. The Objects Which Had Looked Dim And Terrible In The Darkness, Grew More And More Defined, And Gradually Resolved Into Their Familiar Shapes. The Rain Came Down, Thick And Fast; And Pattered, Noisily, Among The Leafless Bushes.

So Does A Whole World, With All Its Greatnesses And Littlenesses, Lie In A Twinkling Star. And As Mere Human Knowledge Can Split A Ray Of Light And Analyse The Manner Of Its Composition, So, Sublimer Intelligences May Read In The Feeble Shining Of This Earth Of Ours, Every Thought And Act, Every Vice And Virtue, Of Every Responsible Creature On It.

Crush Humanity Out Of Shape Once More, Under Similar Hammers, And It Will Twist Itself Into The Same Tortured Forms. Sow The Same Seeds Of Rapacious Licence And Oppression Over Again, And It Will Surely Yield The Same Fruit According To Its Kind.

And Can It Be That In A World So Full And Busy The Loss Of One Creature Makes A Void So Wide And Deep That Nothing But The Width And Depth Of Eternity Can Fill It Up!

All The Housemaid Hopes Is, Happiness For 'em - But Marriage Is A Lottery, And The More She Thinks About It, The More She Feels The Independence And The Safety Of A Single Life.

Love Her, Love Her, Love Her! If She Favours You, Love Her. If She Wounds You, Love Her. If She Tears Your Heart To Pieces – And As It Gets Older And Stronger, It Will Tear Deeper – Love Her, Love Her, Love Her!

You Are In Every Line I Have Ever Read.

Poverty And Oysters Always Seem To Go Together.

There Are Dark Shadows On The Earth, But Its Lights Are Stronger In The Contrast. Some Men, Like Bats Or Owls, Have Better Eyes For The Darkness Than For The Light. We, Who Have No Such Optical Powers, Are Better Pleased To Take Our Last Parting Look At The Visionary Companions Of Many Solitary Hours, When The Brief Sunshine Of The World Is Blazing Full Upon Them.

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