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For Who Can Wonder That Man Should Feel A Vague Belief In Tales Of Disembodied Spirits Wandering Through Those Places Which They Once Dearly Affected, When He Himself, Scarcely Less Separated From His Old World Than They, Is For Ever Lingering Upon Past Emotions And Bygone Times, And Hovering, The Ghost Of His Former Self, About The Places And People That Warmed His Heart Of Old?

-Charles Dickens

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For Who Can Wonder

Charles Dickens

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For Who Can Wonder That Man Should Feel A Vague Belief In Tales Of Disembodied Spirits Wandering Through Those Places Which They Once Dearly Affected, When He Himself, Scarcely Less Separated From His Old World Than They, Is For Ever Lingering Upon Past Emotions And Bygone Times, And Hovering, The Ghost Of His Former Self, About The Places And People That Warmed His Heart Of Old?

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A Heart Well Worth Winning, And Well Won. A Heart That, Once Won, Goes Through Fire And Water For The Winner, And Never Changes, And Is Never Daunted.

There Was A Little Plate Of Hothouse Nectarines On The Table, And There Was Another Of Grapes, And Another Of Sponge-cakes, And There Was A Bottle Of Light Wine ... 'this Is My Frugal Breakfast ... Give Me My Peach, My Cup Of Coffee, And My Claret.'

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.

We Need Be Careful How We Deal With Those About Us, When Every Death Carries To Some Small Circle Of Survivors, Thoughts Of So Much Omitted, And So Little Done- Of So Many Things Forgotten, And So Many More Which Might Have Been Repaired! There Is No Remorse So Deep As That Which Is Unavailing; If We Would Be Spared Its Tortures, Let Us Remember This, In Time.

You Have No Idea What It Is To Have Anybody Wonderful Fond Of You, Unless You Have Been Got Down And Rolled Upon By The Lonely Feelings That I Have Mentioned As Having Once Got The Better Of Me.

Love, However, Is Very Materially Assisted By A Warm And Active Imagination: Which Has A Long Memory, And Will Thrive, For A Considerable Time, On Very Slight And Sparing Food.

There Are Chords In The Human Heart- Strange, Varying Strings- Which Are Only Struck By Accident; Which Will Remain Mute And Senseless To Appeals The Most Passionate And Earnest, And Respond At Last To The Slightest Casual Touch.

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

The Sum Of The Whole Is This: Walk And Be Happy, Walk And Be Healthy. "the Best Of All Ways To Lengthen Our Days" Is Not, As Mr. Thomas Moore Has It, "to Steal A Few Hours From Night, My Love;" But, With Leave Be It Spoken, To Walk Steadily And With A Purpose. The Wandering Man Knows Of Certain Ancients, Far Gone In Years, Who Have Staved Off Infirmities And Dissolution By Earnest Walking,-hale Fellows Close Upon Eighty And Ninety, But Brisk As Boys.

I Verily Believe That Her Not Remembering And Not Minding In The Least, Made Me Cry Again, Inwardly - And That Is The Sharpest Crying Of All.

If I Could Not Walk Far And Fast, I Think I Should Just Explode And Perish.

Feet And Walking

"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..."

Huge Knots Of Sea-weed Hung Upon The Jagged And Pointed Stones, Trembling In Every Breath Of Wind; And The Green Ivy Clung Mournfully Round The Dark And Ruined Battlements. Behind It Rose The Ancient Castle, Its Towers Roofless, And Its Massive Walls Crumbling Away, But Telling Us Proudly Of Its Own Might And Strength, As When, Seven Hundred Years Ago, It Rang With The Clash Of Arms, Or Resounded With The Noise Of Feasting And Revelry.

Time And Tide Will Wait For No Man, Saith The Adage. But All Men Have To Wait For Time And Tide.

The Present Representative Of The Dedlocks Is An Excellent Master.he Supposes All His Dependents To Be Utterly Bereft Of Individual Characters, Intentions Or Opinions, And Is Persuaded That He Was Born To Supersede The Necessity Of Their Having Any.if He Were To Make A Discovery To The Contrary, He Would Be Simply Stunned - Would Never Recover Himself, Most Likely, Except To Gasp And Die.

Do The Wise Thing And The Kind Thing Too, And Make The Best Of Us And Not The Worst.

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!

It Is A Most Miserable Thing To Feel Ashamed Of Home.

Words Of Wisdom

But Rosa Soon Made The Discovery That Miss Twinkleton Didn't Read Fairly. She Cut The Love-scenes, Interpolated Passages In Praise Of Female Celibacy, And Was Guilty Of Other Glaring Pious Frauds.

Is It Better To Have Had A Good Thing And Lost It, Or Never To Have Had It?

If Her Eyes Had No Expression, It Was Probably Because They Had Nothing To Express. If She Had Few Wrinkles, It Was Because Her Mind Had Never Traced Its Name Or Any Other Inscription On Her Face.

What I Want You To Be - I Don't Mean Physically But Morally: You Are Very Well Physically - Is A Firm Fellow, A Fine Firm Fellow, With A Will Of Your Own, With Resolution. With Determination. With Strength Of Character That Is Not To Be Influenced Except On Good Reason By Anybody, Or By Anything. That's What I Want You To Be. That's What Your Father, & Your Mother Might Both Have Been

"o' Course I Came To Look Arter You, My Darlin'," Replied Mr. Weller; For Once Permitting His Passion To Get The Better Of His Veracity.

Listlessness To Everything, But Brooding Sorrow, Was The Night That Fell On My Undisciplined Heart. Let Me Look Up From It - As At Last I Did, Thank Heaven! - And From Its Long, Sad, Wretched Dream, To Dawn.

We Still Leave Unblotted In The Leaves Of Our Statute Book, For The Reverence And Admiration Of Successive Ages, The Just And Wholesome Law Which Declares That The Sturdy Felon Shall Be Fed And Clothed, And That The Penniless Debtor Shall Be Left To Die Of Starvation And Nakedness. This Is No Fiction.

Ven You Read The Speeches In The Papers, And See As Vun Gen'lman Says Of Another, 'the Honourable Member, If He Vill Allow Me To Call Him So' You Vill Understand, Sir, That That Means, 'if He Vill Allow Me To Keep Up That 'ere Pleasant And Uniwersal Fiction.'

Night, Like A Giant, Fills The Church, From Pavement To Roof, And Holds Dominion Through The Silent Hours. Pale Dawn Again Comes Peeping Through The Windows: And, Giving Place To Day, Sees Night Withdraw Into The Vaults, And Follows It, And Drives It Out, And Hides Among The Dead.

My Faith In The People Governing Is, On The Whole, Infinitesimal; My Faith In The People Governed Is, On The Whole, Illimitable.

The Habit Of Paying Compliments Kept A Man's Tongue Oiled Without Any Expense.

There Can Be No Disparity In Marriage Like Unsuitability Of Mind And Purpose.

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

I Don't Know What To Do!" Cried Scrooge, Laughing And Crying In The Same Breath; And Making A Perfect Laocoön Of Himself With His Stockings. "i Am As Light As A Feather, I Am As Happy As An Angel, I Am As Merry As A School-boy. I Am As Giddy As A Drunken Man. A Merry Christmas To Every-body! A Happy New Year To All The World! Hallo Here! Whoop! Hallo!

Of All The Ruinous And Desolate Places My Uncle Had Ever Beheld, This Was The Most So. It Looked As If It Had Once Been A Large House Of Entertainment; But The Roof Had Fallen In, In Many Places, And The Stairs Were Steep, Rugged, And Broken. There Was A Huge Fire-place In The Room Into Which They Walked, And The Chimney Was Blackened With Smoke; But No Warm Blaze Lighted It Up Now. The White Feathery Dust Of Burnt Wood Was Still Strewed Over The Hearth, But The Stove Was Cold, And All Was Dark And Gloomy.

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.

Make Them Laugh, Make Them Cry, Make Them Wait.

Meow Says The Cat ,quack Says The Duck , Bow Wow Wow Says The Dog ! Grrrr!

They Don't Mind It: Its A Reg'lar Holiday To Them - All Porter And Skittles.

We Part With Tender Relations Stretching Far Behind Us, That Never Can Be Exactly Renewed, And With Others Dawning - Yet Before Us.

And What An Example Of The Power Of Dress Young Oliver Twist Was! Wrapped In The Blanket Which Had Hitherto Formed His Only Covering, He Might Have Been The Child Of A Nobleman Or A Beggar;—it Would Have Been Hard For The Haughtiest Stranger To Have Fixed His Station In Society. But Now He Was Enveloped In The Old Calico Robes, That Had Grown Yellow In The Same Service; He Was Badged And Ticketed, And Fell Into His Place At Once—a Parish Child—the Orphan Of A Workhouse—the Humble, Half-starved Drudge—to Be Cuffed And Buffeted Through The World, Despised By All, And Pitied By None.

"i Go So Far As To Say, Miss, Morehover," Proceeded Mr. Cruncher, With A Most Alarming Tendency To Hold Forth As From A Pulpit-"and Let My Words Be Took Down And Took To Mrs. Cruncher Through Yourself-that Wot My Opinions Respectin' Flopping Has Undergone A Change, And That Wot I Only Hope With All My Heart As Mrs. Cruncher May Be A Flopping At The Present Time."

The Earth Covered With A Sable Pall As For The Burial Of Yesterday; The Clumps Of Dark Trees, Its Giant Plumes Of Funeral Feathers, Waving Sadly To And Fro: All Hushed, All Noiseless, And In Deep Repose, Save The Swift Clouds That Skim Across The Moon, And The Cautious Wind, As, Creeping After Them Upon The Ground, It Stops To Listen, And Goes Rustling On, And Stops Again, And Follows, Like A Savage On The Trail.

All I Would Say Is, That I Can Go Abroad Without Your Family Coming Forward To Favour Me, - In Short, With A Parting Shove Of Their Cold Shoulders; And That, Upon The Whole, I Would Rather Leave England With Such Impetus As I Possess, Than Derive Any Acceleration Of It From That Quarter.

How Could You Give Me Life, And Take From Me All The Inappreciable Things That Raise It From The State Of Conscious Death? Where Are The Graces Of My Soul? Where Are The Sentiments Of My Heart? What Have You Done, Oh, Father, What Have You Done With The Garden That Should Have Bloomed Once, In This Great Wilderness Here? Said Louisa As She Touched Her Heart.

A Little Learning Is A Dangerous Thing, But A Little Patronage More So.

They Enter, Locking Themselves In, Descend The Rugged Steps, And Are Down In The Crypt. The Lantern Is Not Wanted, For The Moonlight Strikes In At The Groined Windows, Bare Of Glass, The Broken Frames For Which Cast Patterns On The Ground. The Heavy Pillars Which Support The Roof Engender Masses Of Black Shade, But Between Them There Are Lanes Of Light.

Drive Him Fast To His Tomb. This, From Jacques.

Tale Of Two Cities

A Brisk, Bright, Blue-eyed Fellow, A Very Neat Figure And Rather Under The Middle Size, Never Out Of The Way And Never In It.

In A Utilitarian Age, Of All Other Times, It Is A Matter Of Grave Importance That Fairy Tales Should Be Respected.

Any Man May Be In Good Spirits And Good Temper When He's Well Dressed. There Ain't Much Credit In That.

The Civility Which Money Will Purchase, Is Rarely Extended To Those Who Have None.

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.

He Was Consious Of A Thousand Odours Floating In The Air, Each One Connected With A Thousand Thoughts, And Hopes, And Joys, And Cares, Long, Long, Forgotten.

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.

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.

... I Feel Certain That His Tale Is True. Feeling That Certainty, I Befriend Him. As Long As That Certainty Shall Last, I Will Befriend Him. And If Any Consideration Could Shake Me In This Resolve, I Should Be So Ashamed Of Myself For My Meanness, That No Man's Good Opinion - No, Nor No Woman's - So Gained, Could Compensate Me For The Loss Of My Own.

If I May Ride With You, Citizen Evremonde, Will You Let Me Hold Your Hand? I Am Not Afraid, But I Am Little And Weak, And It Will Give Me More Courage." As The Patient Eyes Were Lifted To His Face, He Saw A Sudden Doubt In Them, And Then Astonishment. He Pressed The Work-worn, Hunger-worn Young Fingers, And Touched His Lips. "are You Dying For Him?" She Whispered. "and His Wife And Child. Hush! Yes." "oh, You Will Let Me Hold Your Brave Hand, Stranger?" "hush! Yes, My Poor Sister; To The Last.

I Have Tried To Resign Myself, And To Console Myself; And That, I Hope, I May Have Done Imperfectly; But What I Cannot Firmly Settle In My Mind Is, That The End Will Absolutely Come. I Hold Her Hand In Mine, I Hold Her Heart In Mine, I See Her Love For Me, Alive In All Its Strength. I Cannot Shut Out A Pale Lingering Shadow Of Belief That She Will Be Spared.

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.

‎and Yet I Have Had The Weakness, And Have Still The Weakness, To Wish You To Know With What A Sudden Mastery You Kindled Me, Heap Of Ashes That I Am, Into Fire.

Let No Man Turn Aside, Ever So Slightly, From The Broad Path Of Honour, On The Plausible Pretence That He Is Justified By The Goodness Of His End. All Good Ends Can Be Worked Out By Good Means.

The Shadows Of Our Own Desires Stand Between Us And Our Better Angels, And Thus Their Brightness Is Eclipsed.

Words Of Wisdom

I Had Seen The Damp Lying On The Outside Of My Little Window, As If Some Goblin Had Been Crying There All Night, And Using The Window For A Pocket-handkerchief.

There Is A Sunday Conscience As Well As A Sunday Coat; And Those Who Make Religion A Secondary Concern Put The Coat And Conscience Carefully By To Put On Only Once A Week.

I Should Never Have Made My Success In Life If I Had Not Bestowed Upon The Least Thing I Have Ever Undertaken The Same Attention And Care That I Have Bestowed Upon The Greatest.

Success In Life

So, Throughout Life, Our Worst Weaknesses And Meannesses Are Usually Committed For The Sake Of The People Whom We Most Despise.

Words Of Wisdom

Can You Suppose There's Any Harm In Looking As Cheerful And Being As Cheerful As Our Poor Circumstances Will Permit?

Words Of Wisdom

There Was A Piece Of Ornamental Water Immediately Below The Parapet, On The Other Side, Into Which Mr. James Harthouse Had A Very Strong Inclination To Pitch Mr. Thomas Gradgrind Junior.

He Was A Very Young Boy; Quite A Little Child. His Hair Still Hung In Curls About His Face, And His Eyes Were Very Bright; But Their Light Was Of Heaven, Not Earth.

Old Time, That Greatest And Longest Established Spinner Of All!... His Factory Is A Secret Place, His Work Is Noiseless, And His Hands Are Mutes.

A Very Little Key Will Open A Very Heavy Door.

Reflect Upon Your Present Blessings

Death Is A Mighty, Universal Truth.

Universal Truth

Mr. Tulkinghorn, Sitting In The Twilight By The Open Window, Enjoys His Wine. As If It Whispered To Him Of Its Fifty Years Of Silence And Seclusion, It Shuts Him Up The Closer. More Impenetrable Than Ever, He Sits, And Drinks, And Mellows As It Were In Secrecy, Pondering At That Twilight Hour On All The Mysteries He Knows.

I Think It Must Somewhere Be Written That The Virtues Of Mothers Shall Be Visited On Their Children, As Well As The Sins Of Their Fathers.

... No, The Office Is One Thing, And Private Life Is Another. When I Go Into The Office, I Leave The Castle Behind Me, And When I Come Into The Castle, I Leave The Office Behind Me.

Words Of Wisdom

What Is Peace? Is It War? No. Is It Strife? No. Is It Lovely, And Gentle, And Beautiful, And Pleasant, And Serene, And Joyful? O Yes!

Affery, Like Greater People, Had Always Been Right In Her Facts, And Always Wrong In The Theories She Deduced From Them.

Words Of Wisdom

There Once Was A Child, And He Strolled About A Good Deal, And Thought Of A Number Of Things. He Had A Sister, Who Was A Child Too, And His Constant Companion. These Two Used To Wonder All Day Long. They Wondered At The Beauty Of The Flowers; They Wondered At The Height And Blueness Of The Sky; They Wondered At The Depth Of The Bright Water; They Wondered At The Goodness And The Power Of God Who Made The Lovely World.

Nothing That We Do, Is Done In Vain. I Believe, With All My Soul, That We Shall See Triumph.

A Display Of Indifference To All The Actions And Passions Of Mankind Was Not Supposed To Be Such A Distinguished Quality At That Time, I Think, As I Have Observed It To Be Considered Since. I Have Known It Very Fashionable Indeed. I Have Seen It Displayed With Such Success, That I Have Encountered Some Fine Ladies And Gentlemen Who Might As Well Have Been Born Caterpillars.

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.

The One Great Principle Of The English Law Is, To Make Business For Itself. There Is No Other Principle Distinctly, Certainly, And Consistently Maintained Through All Its Narrow Turnings. Viewed By This Light It Becomes A Coherent Scheme, And Not The Monstrous Maze The Laity Are Apt To Think It. Let Them But Once Clearly Perceive That Its Grand Principle Is To Make Business For Itself At Their Expense, And Surely They Will Cease To Grumble.

The Unqualified Truth Is, That When I Loved Estella With The Love Of A Man, I Loved Her Simply Because I Found Her Irresistible. Once For All; I Knew To My Sorrow, Often And Often, If Not Always, That I Loved Her Against Reason, Against Promise, Against Peace, Against Hope, Against Happiness, Against All Discouragement That Could Be. Once For All; I Love Her None The Less Because I Knew It, And It Had No More Influence In Restraining Me, Than If I Had Devoutly Believed Her To Be Human Perfection.

Great Expectations

Loves And Cupids Took To Flight Afraid, And Martyrdom Had No Such Torment In Its Painted History Of Suffering.

Anything For The Quick Life, As The Man Said When He Took The Situation At The Lighthouse.

Poetry's Unnat'ral; No Man Ever Talked Poetry 'cept A Beadle On Boxin' Day, Or Warren's Blackin' Or Rowland's Oil, Or Some O' Them Low Fellows; Never You Let Yourself Down To Talk Poetry, My Boy.

Anything That Makes A Noise Is Satisfactory To A Crowd.

Words Of Wisdom

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.

I Don't Quite Recollect How Many Tumblers Of Whiskey Toddy Each Man Drank After Supper; But This I Know, That About One O'clock In The Morning, The Baillie's Grown-up Son Became Insensible While Attempting The First Verse Of 'willie Brewed A Peck O' Maut'; And He Having Been, For Half An Hour Before, The Only Other Man Visible Above The Mahogany, It Occurred To My Uncle That It Was Almost Time To Think About Going.

You Are Part Of My Existence, Part Of Myself. You Have Been In Every Line I Have Ever Read, Since I First Came Here, The Rough Common Boy Whose Poor Heart You Wounded Even Then. You Have Been In Every Prospect I Have Ever Seen Since-on The River, On The Sails Of The Ships, On The Marshes, In The Clouds, In The Light, In The Darkness, In The Wind, In The Woods, In The Sea, In The Streets. You Have Been The Embodiment Of Every Graceful Fancy That My Mind Has Ever Become Acquainted With.

"oh!" Said My Aunt, "i Was Not Aware At First To Whom I Had The Pleasure Of Objecting."

Heaven Knows We Need Never Be Ashamed Of Our Tears, For They Are Rain Upon The Blinding Dust Of Earth, Overlying Our Hard Hearts. I Was Better After I Had Cried, Than Before--more Sorry, More Aware Of My Own Ingratitude, More Gentle.

Missionaries Are Perfect Nuisances And Leave Every Place Worse Than They Found It.

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.

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.

Such Is Hope, Heaven's Own Gift To Struggling Mortals, Pervading, Like Some Subtle Essence From The Skies, All Things Both Good And Bad.

I Will Live In The Past, The Present, And The Future. The Spirits Of All Three Shall Strive Within Me.

Wen You're A Married Man, Samivel, You'll Understand A Good Many Things As You Don't Understand Now; But Vether It's Worth While Goin' Through So Much To Learn So Little, As The Charity-boy Sand Ven He Go To The End Of The Alphabet, It's A Matter Of Taste.

Nothing Ever Happened On This Globe, For Good, At Which Some People Did Not Have Their Fill Of Laughter In The Onset; And Knowing That Such As These Would Be Blind Anyway, He Thought It Quite As Well That They Should Wrinkle Up Their Eyes In Grins, As Have A Malady In The Less Attractive Forms.

"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..."

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. Withered Leaves Crackled And Snapped Beneath His Feet, As He Crept Softly On Towards The House. The Desolation Of A Winter Night Sat Brooding On The Earth, And In The Sky. But, The Red Light Came Cheerily Towards Him From The Windows; Figures Passed And Repassed There; And The Hum And Murmur Of Voices Greeted His Ear Sweetly.

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.

Scattered Wits Take A Long Time In Picking Up.

Skewered Through And Through With Office-pens, And Bound Hand And Foot With Red Tape.

And Could I Look Upon Her Without Compassion, Seeing Her Punishment In The Ruin She Was, In Her Profound Unfitness For This Earth On Which She Was Placed, In The Vanity Of Sorrow Which Had Become A Master Mania, Like The Vanity Of Penitence, The Vanity Of Remorse, The Vanity Of Unworthiness, And Other Monstrous Vanities That Have Been Curses In This World?

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.

-why Don't You Cry Again, You Little Wretch? -because I'll Never Cry For You Again.

It Was A Foggy Day In London, And The Fog Was Heavy And Dark. Animate London, With Smarting Eyes And Irritated Lungs, Was Blinking, Wheezing, And Choking; Inanimate London Was A Sooty Spectre, Divided In Purpose Between Being Visible And Invisible, And So Being Wholly Neither.

In This Way They Went On, And On, And On-in The Language Of The Story-books-until At Last The Village Lights Appeared Before Them, And The Church Spire Cast A Long Reflection On The Graveyard Grass; As If It Were A Dial (alas, The Truest In The World!) Marking, Whatever Light Shone Out Of Heaven, The Flight Of Days And Weeks And Years, By Some New Shadow On That Solemn Ground.

One Always Begins To Forgive A Place As Soon As It's Left Behind.

We Came To The House, And It Is An Old House, Full Of Great Chimneys Where Wood Is Burnt On Ancient Dogs Upon The Hearth, And Grim Portraits (some Of Them With Grim Legends, Too) Lower Distrustfully From The Oaken Panels Of The Walls.

Some Philosophers Tell Us That Selfishness Is At The Root Of Our Best Loves And Affections. Mr. Dombey's Young Child Was, From The Beginning, So Distinctly Important To Him As A Part Of His Own Greatness, Or (which Is The Same Thing) Of The Greatness Of Dombey And Son, That There Is No Doubt His Parental Affection Might Have Been Easily Traced, Like Many A Goodly Superstructure Of Fair Fame, To A Very Low Foundation.

Love Is Not A Feeling To Pass Away Like The Balmy Breath Of A Summer's Day....... Love Is Not A Passion Of Earthly Mould As A Thirst For Honour, Or Fame, Or Gold

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.

Lawyers Hold That There Are Two Kinds Of Particularly Bad Witnesses--a Reluctant Witness, And A Too-willing Witness.

But I Am Sure That I Have Always Thought Of Christmas Time, When It Has Come Round...as A Good Time; A Kind, Forgiving, Charitable, Pleasant Time; The Only Time I Know Of, In The Long Calendar Of The Year, When Men And Women Seem By One Consent To Open Their Shut-up Hearts Freely.

"it Is A Sensation Not Experienced By Many Mortals," Said He, "to Be Looking Into A Churchyard On A Wild Windy Night, And To Feel That I No More Hold A Place Among The Living Than These Dead Do, And Even To Know That I Lie Buried Somewhere Else, As They Lie Buried Here. Nothing Uses Me To It. A Spirit That Was Once A Man Could Hardly Feel Stranger Or Lonelier, Going Unrecognized Among Mankind, Than I Feel."

Nothing Of What Is Nobly Done Is Ever Lost.

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".

I Have A Heart To Be Stabbed In Or Shot In, I Have No Doubt, And, Of Course, If It Ceased To Beat, I Would Cease To Be. But You Know What I Mean. I Have No Softness There, No—sympathy—sentiment—nonsense.

The Sky Was Dark And Gloomy, The Air Was Damp And Raw, The Streets Were Wet And Sloppy. The Smoke Hung Sluggishly Above The Chimney-tops As If It Lacked The Courage To Rise, And The Rain Came Slowly And Doggedly Down, As If It Had Not Even The Spirit To Pour.

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.

Death May Beget Life, But Oppression Can Beget Nothing Other Than Itself.

We Need Never Be Ashamed Of Our Tears.

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

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 .

Man Is But Mortal: And There Is A Point Beyond Which Human Courage Cannot Extend. Mr. Pickwick Gazed Through His Spectacles For An Instant On The Advancing Mass, And Then Fairly Turned His Back And-we Will Not Say Fled; Firstly, Because It Is An Ignoble Term, And, Secondly, Because Mr. Pickwick's Figure Was By No Means Adapted For That Mode Of Retreat-he Trotted Away, At As Quick A Rate As His Legs Would Convey Him;.

The Dew Seemed To Sparkle More Brightly On The Green Leaves The Air To Rustle Among Them With A Sweeter Music And The Sky Itself To Look More Blue And Bright. Such Is The Influence Which The Condition Of Our Own Thoughts, Exercise, Even Over The Appearance Of External Objects.

The Word Of A Gentleman Is As Good As His Bond — Sometimes Better; As In The Present Case, Where His Bond Might Prove But A Doubtful Sort Of Security.

When The Moon Shines Very Brilliantly, A Solitude And Stillness Seem To Proceed From Her That Influence Even Crowded Places Full Of Life.

Come, Let's Be A Comfortable Couple And Take Care Of Each Other! How Glad We Shall Be, That We Have Somebody We Are Fond Of Always, To Talk To And Sit With.

... As To Sleep, You Know, I Never Sleep Now. I Might Be A Watchman, Except That I Don't Get Any Pay, And He's Got Nothing On His Mind.

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.

He Was Simply And Staunchly True To His Duty Alike In The Large Case And In The Small. So All True Souls Ever Are. So Every True Soul Ever Was, Ever Is, And Ever Will Be. There Is Nothing Little To The Really Great In Spirit.

It's My Old Girl That Advises. She Has The Head. But I Never Own To It Before Her. Discipline Must Be Maintained.

You Are Too Young To Know How The World Changes Everyday,' Said Mrs Creakle, 'and How The People In It Pass Away. But We All Have To Learn It, David; Some Of Us When We Are Young, Some Of Us When We Are Old, Some Of Us At All Times In Our Lives.

The Citizen ... Preserved The Resolute Bearing Of One Who Was Not To Be Frowned Down Or Daunted, And Who Cared Very Little For Any Nobility But That Of Worth And Manhood.

Christmas Time! That Man Must Be A Misanthrope Indeed, In Whose Breast Something Like A Jovial Feeling Is Not Roused - In Whose Mind Some Pleasant Associations Are Not Awakened - By The Recurrence Of Christmas.

He Appeared To Enjoy Beyond Everything The Sound Of His Own Voice. I Couldn't Wonder At That, For It Was Mellow And Full And Gave Great Importance To Every Word He Uttered. He Listened To Himself With Obvious Satisfaction And Sometimes Gently Beat Time To His Own Music With His Head Or Rounded A Sentence With His Hand.

And Numerous Indeed Are The Hearts To Which Christmas Brings A Brief Season Of Happiness And Enjoyment.

By The By, Who Ever Knew A Man Who Never Read Or Wrote Neither Who Hadn't Got Some Small Back Parlour Which He Would Call A Study!

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

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

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.

A Wonderful Fact To Reflect Upon, That Every Human Creature Is Constituted To Be That Profound Secret And Mystery To Every Other.

Reflecting Upon

Bring In The Bottled Lightning, A Clean Tumbler, And A Corkscrew.

Above All, One Hideous Figure Grew As Familiar As If It Had Been Before The General Gaze From The Foundations Of The World - The Figure Of The Sharp Female Called La Guillotine. It Was The Popular Theme For Jests; It Was The Best Cure For Headache, It Infallibly Prevented Hair From Turning Gray, It Imparted A Peculiar Delicacy To The Complexion, It Was The National Razor Which Shaved Close: Who Kissed La Guillotine Looked Through The Little Window And Sneezed Into The Sack.

I Have Sometimes Sat Alone Here Of An Evening, Listening, Until I Have Made The Echoes Out To Be The Echoes Of All The Footsteps That Are Coming By And By Into Our Lives. "jerry, Say That My Answer Was, 'recalled To Life.

Man Cannot Really Improve Himself Without Improving Others.

Why, Mrs. Piper Has A Good Deal To Say, Chiefly In Parentheses And Without Punctuation, But Not Much To Tell.

The White Face Of The Winter Day Came Sluggishly On, Veiled In A Frosty Mist; And The Shadowy Ships In The River Slowly Changed To Black Substances; And The Sun, Blood-red On The Eastern Marshes Behind Dark Masts And Yards, Seemed Filled With The Ruins Of A Forest It Had Set On Fire.

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

Marley Was Dead, To Begin With ... This Must Be Distintly Understood, Or Nothing Wonderful Can Come Of The Story I Am Going To Relate.

The Two Stand In The Fast-thinning Throng Of Victims, But They Speak As If They Were Alone. Eye To Eye, Voice To Voice, Hand To Hand, Heart To Heart, These Two Children Of The Universal Mother, Else So Wide Apart And Differing, Have Come Together On The Dark Highway, To Repair Home Together And To Rest In Her Bosom.

It Was One Of Those Hot, Silent Nights, When People Sit At Windows Listening For The Thunder Which They Know Will Shortly Break; When They Recall Dismal Tales Of Hurricanes And Earthquakes; And Of Lonely Travellers On Open Plains, And Lonely Ships At Sea, Struck By Lightning.

We Must Leave The Discovery Of This Mystery, Like All Others, To Time, And Accident, And Heaven's Pleasure.

Least Said, Soonest Mended

We Lawyers Are Always Curious, Always Inquisitive, Always Picking Up Odds And Ends For Our Patchwork Minds, Since There Is No Knowing When And Where They May Fit Into Some Corner.

A New Heart For A New Year, Always!

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.

Every Baby Born Into The World Is A Finer One Than The Last.

Dumb As A Drum Vith A Hole In It, Sir.

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.

Mr. Pickwick Took A Seat And The Paper, But Instead Of Reading The Latter, Peeped Over The Top Of It, And Took A Survey Of The Man Of Business, Who Was An Elderly, Pimply-faced, Vegetable-diet Sort Of Man, In A Black Coat, Dark Mixture Trousers, And Small Black Gaiters; A Kind Of Being Who Seemed To Be An Essential Part Of The Desk At Which He Was Writing, And To Have As Much Thought Or Sentiment.

When Death Strikes Down The Innocent And Young, For Every Fragile Form From Which He Lets The Panting Spirit Free, A Hundred Virtues Rise, In Shapes Of Mercy, Charity, And Love, To Walk The World And Bless It. Of Every Tear That Sorrowing Mortals Shed On Such Green Graves, Some Good Is Born, Some Gentler Nature Comes.

I Am What You Designed Me To Be.i Am Your Blade. You Cannot Now Complain If You Also Feel The Hurt

The Rippling Of The River Seemed To Cause A Correspondent Stir In His Uneasy Reflections. He Would Have Laid Them Asleep If He Could, But They Were In Movement, Like The Stream, And All Tending One Way With A Strong Current.

Never Close Your Lips To Those Whom You Have Already Opened Your Heart.

This Is The Even-handed Dealing Of The World!" He Said. "there Is Noth-ing On Which It Is So Hard As Poverty; And There Is Nothing It Professes Tocondemn With Such Severity As The Pursuit Of Wealth!

He Was Touched In The Cavity Where His Heart Should Have Been, In That Nest Of Addled Eggs, Where The Birds Of Heaven Would Have Lived If They Had Not Been Whistled Away, By The Fervour Of This Reproach.

I Would Like To Be Going All Over The Kingdom...and Acting Everywhere. There's Nothing In The World Equal To Seeing The House Rise At You, One Sea Of Delightful Faces, One Hurrah Of Applause!

If The World Go Wrong, It Was, In Some Off-hand Manner, Never Meant To Go Right.

Every Failure Teaches A Man Something, If He Will Learn; And You Are Too Sensible A Man Not To Learn From This Failure.

But, For All That, They Had A Very Pleasant Walk. The Trees Were Bare Of Leaves, And The River Was Bare Of Water-lilies; But The Sky Was Not Bare Of Its Beautiful Blue, And The Water Reflected It, And A Delicious Wind Ran With The Stream, Touching The Surface Crisply.

Fledgeby Deserved Mr. Alfred Lammle's Eulogium. He Was The Meanest Cur Existing, With A Single Pair Of Legs. And Instinct (a Word We All Clearly Understand) Going Largely On Four Legs, And Reason Always On Two, Meanness On Four Legs Never Attains The Perfection Of Meanness On Two.

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

"hope, You See, Wal'r," Said The Captain, Sagely, "hope. It's That As Animates You. Hope Is A Buoy, For Which You Overhaul Your Little Warbler, Sentimental Diwision, But Lord, My Lad, Like Any Other Buoy, It Only Floats; It Can't Be Steered Nowhere. Along With The Figure-head Of Hope,' Said The Captain, 'there's A Anchor; But What's The Good Of My Having A Anchor, If I Can't Find No Bottom To Let It Go In?"

Life Is Made Of Ever So Many Partings Welded Together.

It Being A Part Of Mrs. Pipchin's System Not To Encourage A Child's Mind To Develop And Expand Itself Like A Young Flower, But To Open It By Force Like An Oyster.

There Seems A Magic In The Very Name Of Christmas.

The Water Of The Fountain Ran, The Swift River Ran, The Day Ran Into Evening, So Much Life In The City Ran Into Death According To Rule, Time And Tide Waited For No Man, The Rats Were Sleeping Close Together In Their Dark Holes Again, The Fancy Ball Was Lighted Up At Supper, All Things Ran Their Course.

The Secretary, Working In The Dismal Swamp Betimes Next Morning, Was Informed That A Youth Waited In The Hall Who Gave The Name Of Sloppy. The Footman Who Communicated This Intelligence Made A Decent Pause Before Uttering The Name, To Express That It Was Forced On His Reluctance By The Youth In Question, And That If The Youth Had Had The Good Sense And Good Taste To Inherit Some Other Name It Would Have Spared The Feelings Of Him The Bearer.

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

There Is A Wisdom Of The Head, And A Wisdom Of The Heart.

Out Upon Merry Christmas! What's Christmas Time To You But A Time For Paying Bills Without Money; A Time For Finding Yourself A Year Older, But Not An Hour Richer...? If I Could Work My Will," Said Scrooge Indignantly, "every Idiot Who Goes About With 'merry Christmas' Upon His Lips Should Be Boiled With His Won Pudding, And Buried With A Stake Of Holly Through His Heart. He Should!

Spite Is A Little Word, But It Represents As Strange A Jumble Of Feelings And Compound Of Discords, As Any Polysyllable In The Language.

If A Pig Could Give His Mind To Anything, He Would Not Be A Pig.

Although A Skillful Flatterer Is A Most Delightful Companion If You Have Him All To Yourself, His Taste Becomes Very Doubtful When He Takes To Complimenting Other People.

I Found Uriah Reading A Great Fat Book, With Such Demonstrative Attention, That His Lank Forefinger Followed Up Every Line As He Read, And Made Clammy Tracks Along The Page (or So I Fully Believed) Like A Snail.

Not Only Is The Day Waning, But The Year. The Low Sun Is Fiery And Yet Cold Behind The Monastery Ruin, And The Virginia Creeper On The Cathedral Wall Has Showered Half Its Deep-red Leaves Down On The Pavement. There Has Been Rain This Afternoon, And A Wintry Shudder Goes Among The Little Pools On The Cracked, Uneven Flag-stones, And Through The Giant Elm-trees As They Shed A Gust Of Tears.

... What Such People Miscall Their Religion, Is A Vent For Their Bad Humours And Arrogance.

It Had Grown Darker As They Talked, And The Wind Was Sawing And The Sawdust Was Whirling Outside Paler Windows. The Underlying Churchyard Was Already Settling Into Deep Dim Shade, And The Shade Was Creeping Up To The Housetops Among Which They Sat. "as If," Said Eugene, "as If The Churchyard Ghosts Were Rising."

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!

Circumstances May Accumulate So Strongly Even Against An Innocent Man, That Directed, Sharpened, And Pointed, They May Slay Him.

Words Of Wisdom

"do Not Repine, My Friends," Said Mr. Pecksniff, Tenderly. "do Not Weep For Me. It Is Chronic."

I Am A Neat Hand At Cookery, And I'll Tell You What I Knocked Up For My Christmas-eve Dinner In The Library Cart. I Knocked Up A Beefsteak-pudding For One, With Two Kidneys, A Dozen Oysters, And A Couple Of Mushrooms Thrown In. It's A Pudding To Put A Man In Good Humour With Everything, Except The Two Bottom Buttons Of His Waistcoat.

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.

In A Word, I Was Too Cowardly To Do What I Knew To Be Right, As I Had Been Too Cowardly To Avoid Doing What I Knew To Be Wrong.

If Its Individual Citizens, To A Man, Are To Be Believed, It Always Is Depressed, And Always Is Stagnated, And Always Is At An Alarming Crisis, And Never Was Otherwise; Though As A Body, They Are Ready To Make Oath Upon The Evangelists, At Any Hour Of The Day Or Night, That It Is The Most Thriving And Prosperous Of All Countries On The Habitable Globe.

I Am No More Annoyed When I Think Of The Expression, Than I Should Be Annoyed By A Man's Opinion Of A Picture Of Mine, Who Had No Eye For Pictures; Or Of A Piece Of Music Of Mine, Who Had No Ear For Music.

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