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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.

-Charles Dickens

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Her Heart-is Given Him,

Charles Dickens

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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.

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If An Enthusiastic, Ardent, And Ambitious Man Marry A Wife On Whose Name There Is A Stain, Which, Though It Originate In No Fault Of Hers, May Be Visited By Cold And Sordid People Upon Her, And Upon His Children Also: And, In Exact Proportion To His Success In The World, Be Cast In His Teeth, And Made The Subject Of Sneers Against Him: He May, No Matter How Generous And Good His Nature, One Day Repent Of The Connection He Formed In Early Life; And She May Have The Pain And Torture Of Knowing That He Does So.

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It Is A Pleasant World We Live In, Sir, A Very Pleasant World. There Are Bad People In It, Mr. Richard, But If There Were No Bad People, There Would Be No Good Lawyers.

Indeed The Worthy Housewife Was Of Such A Capricious Nature, That She Not Only Attained A Higher Pitch Of Genius Than Macbeth, In Respect Of Her Ability To Be Wise, Amazed, Temperate And Furious, Loyal And Neutral In An Instant, But Would Sometimes Ring The Changes Backwards And Forwards On All Possible Moods And Flights In One Short Quarter Of An Hour; Performing, As It Were, A Kind Of Triple Bob Major On The Peal Of Instruments In The Female Belfry, With A Skilfulness And Rapidity Of Execution That Astonished All Who Heard Her.

To See The Butcher Slap The Steak Before He Laid It On The Block, And Give His Knife A Sharpening, Was To Forget Breakfast Instantly. It Was Agreeable Too - It Really Was - To See Him Cut It Off So Smooth And Juicy. There Was Nothing Savage In The Act, Although The Knife Was Large And Keen; It Was A Piece Of Art, High Art; There Was Delicacy Of Touch, Clearness Of Tone, Skilful Handling Of The Subject, Fine Shading. It Was The Triumph Of Mind Over Matter; Quite.

Mankind Was My Business... Charity, Mercy, Forbearance, Benevolence, Were All My Business.

My Hair Stands On End At The Cost And Charges Of These Boys. Why Was I Ever A Father! Why Was My Father Ever A Father!

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Regrets Are The Natural Property Of Grey Hairs.

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

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.

"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..."

"a Child!" Said Edith, Looking At Her. "when Was I A Child? What Childhood Did You Ever Leave To Me? I Was A Woman - Artful, Designing, Mercenary, Laying Snares For Men - Before I Knew Myself, Or You, Or Even Understood The Base And Wretched Aim Of Every New Display I Learnt. You Gave Birth To A Woman. Look Upon Her. She Is In Her Pride Tonight."

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

A Word In Earnest Is As Good As A Speech.

Words Of Wisdom

You Have Been So Careful Of Me That I Never Had A Child's Heart. You Have Trained Me So Well That I Never Dreamed A Child's Dream. You Have Dealt So Wisely With Me, Father ,from My Cradle To This Hour, That I Never Had A Child's Belief Or A Child's Fear. Mr. Gradgrind Was Quite Moved By His Success, And By This Testimony To It. " My Dear Louisa," Said He, You Abundantly Repay My Care. Kiss Me, My Dear Girl.

Mr. And Mrs. Boffin Sat Staring At Mid-air, And Mrs. Wilfer Sat Silently Giving Them To Understand That Every Breath She Drew Required To Be Drawn With A Self-denial Rarely Paralleled In History.

A Blight Had Fallen On The Trees And Shrubs; And The Wind, At Length Beginning To Break The Unnatural Stillness That Had Prevailed All Day, Sighed Heavily From Time To Time, As Though Foretelling In Grief The Ravages Of The Coming Storm. The Bat Skimmed In Fantastic Flights Through The Heavy Air, And The Ground Was Alive With Crawling Things, Whose Instinct Brought Them Forth To Swell And Fatten In The Rain.

If Husain (as) Had Fought To Quench His Worldly Desires…then I Do Not Understand Why His Sister, Wife, And Children Accompanied Him. It Stands To Reason Therefore, That He Sacrificed Purely For Islam.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

... The Sun Does Not Shine Upon This Fair Earth To Meet Frowning Eyes, Depend Upon It.

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.

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.

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.

On Summer Evenings, When Every Flower, And Tree, And Bird, Might Have Better Addressed My Soft Young Heart, I Have In My Day Been Caught In The Palm Of A Female Hand By The Crown, Have Been Violently Scrubbed From The Neck To The Roots Of The Hair As A Purification For The Temple, And Have Then Been Carried Off Highly Charged With Saponaceous Electricity, To Be Steamed Like A Potato In The Unventilated Breath Of The Powerful Boanerges Boiler And His Congregation, Until What Small Mind I Had, Was Quite Steamed Out Of Me

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Love Is In All Things A Most Wonderful Teacher.

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!

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

A Merry Christmas To Everybody! A Happy New Year To All The World!

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!

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Ask No Questions, And You'll Be Told No Lies.

And When It Has Got In; As One Not Finding What It Seeks, Whatever That May Be, It Wails And Howls To Issue Forth Again: And Not Content With Stalking Through The Aisles, And Gliding Round And Round The Pillars, And Tempting The Deep Organ, Soars Up To The Roof, And Strives To Rend The Rafters: Then Flings Itself Despairingly Upon The Stones Below, And Passes, Muttering, Into The Vaults.

Never," Said My Aunt, "be Mean In Anything; Never Be False; Never Be Cruel. Avoid Those Three Vices, Trot, And I Can Always Be Hopeful Of You.

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If They Would Rather Die, . . . They Had Better Do It, And Decrease The Surplus Population.

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Before I Go," He Said, And Paused -- "i May Kiss Her?" It Was Remembered Afterwards That When He Bent Down And Touched Her Face With His Lips, He Murmured Some Words. The Child, Who Was Nearest To Him, Told Them Afterwards, And Told Her Grandchildren When She Was A Handsome Old Lady, That She Heard Him Say, "a Life You Love.

In Fine Weather The Old Gentelman Is Almost Constantly In The Garden; And When It Is Too Wet To Go Into It, He Will Look Out The Window At It, By The Hour Together. He Has Always Something To Do There, And You Will See Him Digging, And Sweeping, And Cutting, And Planting, With Manifest Delight.

What Connexion Can There Be, Between The Place In Lincolnshire, The House In Town, The Mercury In Powder, And The Whereabout Of Jo The Outlaw With The Broom, Who Had That Distant Ray Of Light Upon Him When He Swept The Churchyard-step? What Connexion Can There Have Been Between Many People In The Innumerable Histories Of This World, Who, From Opposite Sides Of Great Gulfs, Have, Nevertheless, Been Very Curiously Brought Together!

I Wish You To Know That You Have Been The Last Dream Of My Soul...since I Knew You, I Have Been Troubled By A Remorse That I Thought Would Never Reproach Me Again, And Have Heard Whispers From Old Voices Impelling Me Upward, That I Thought Were Silent For Ever. I Have Had Unformed Ideas Of Striving Afresh, Beginning Anew, Shaking Off Sloth And Sensuality, And Fighting Out The Abandoned Fight. 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.

The Privileges Of The Side-table Included The Small Prerogatives Of Sitting Next To The Toast, And Taking Two Cups Of Tea To Other People's One.

Shall We Speak Of The Inspiration Of A Poet Or A Priest, And Not Of The Heart Impelled By Love And Self-devotion To The Lowliest Work In The Lowliest Way Of Life?

The Rich, Sweet Smell Of The Hayricks Rose To His Chamber Window; The Hundred Perfumes Of The Little Flower-garden Beneath Scented The Air Around; The Deep-green Meadows Shone In The Morning Dew That Glistened On Every Leaf As It Trembled In The Gentle Air: And The Birds Sang As If Every Sparkling Drop Were A Fountain Of Inspiration To Them.

A Demd, Damp, Moist, Unpleasant Body!

He Went To Church, And Walked About The Streets, And Watched The People Hurrying To And Fro, And Patted Children On The Head, And Questioned Beggars, And Looked Down Into The Kitchens Of Houses, And Up To The Windows; And Found That Everything Could Yield Him Pleasure. He Had Never Dreamed That Any Walk — That Anything — Could Give Him So Much Happiness.

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.

He Had But One Eye, And The Popular Prejudice Runs In Favor Of Two.

The Meagre Lighthouse All In White, Haunting The Seaboard, As If It Were The Ghost Of An Edifice That Had Once Had Colour And Rotundity, Dripped Melancholy Tears After Its Late Buffeting By The Waves.

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!

It Is Required Of Every Man," The Ghost Returned, "that The Spirit Within Him Should Walk Abroad Among His Fellow-men, And Travel Far And Wide; And, If That Spirit Goes Not Forth In Life, It Is Condemned To Do So After Death.

Newman Cast A Despairing Glance At His Small Store Of Fuel, But, Not Having The Courage To Say No-a Word Which In All His Life He Never Had Said At The Right Time, Either To Himself Or Anyone Else-gave Way To The Proposed Arrangement.

The Flowers That Sleep By Night, Opened Their Gentle Eyes And Turned Them To The Day. The Light, Creation's Mind, Was Everywhere, And All Things Owned Its Power.

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.

Notwithstanding His Very Liberal Laudation Of Himself, However, The Major Was Selfish. It May Be Doubted Whether There Ever Was A More Entirely Selfish Person At Heart; Or At Stomach Is Perhaps A Better Expression, Seeing That He Was More Decidedly Endowed With That Latter Organ Than With The Former.

" ... It Is Not My Desire To Wound The Feelings Of Any Person With Whom I Am Connected In Family Bonds. I May Be A Hypocrite," Said Mr. Pecksniff, Cuttingly, "but I Am Not A Brute."

We Went Our Several Ways," Said Lady Dedlock, "and Had Little In Common Even Before We Agreed To Differ. It Is To Be Regretted, I Suppose, But It Could Not Be Helped.

People Like Us Don't Go Out At Night Cause People Like Them See Us For What We Are

Stephen Blackpool Fall Into The Loneliest Of Lives, The Life Of Solitude Among A Familiar Crowd. The Stranger In The Land Who Looks Into Ten Thousand Faces For Some Answering Look And Never Finds It, Is In Cheering Society As Compared With Him Who Passes Ten Averted Faces Daily, That Were Once The Countenances Of Friends

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.

My Father’s Family Name Being Pirrip, And My Christian Name Philip, My Infant Tongue Could Make Of Both Names Nothing Longer Or More Explicit Than Pip. So, I Called Myself Pip, And Came To Be Called Pip.

They Are Man's And They Cling To Me, Appealing From Their Fathers. This Boy Is Ignorance And This Girl Is Want. Beware Them Both, And All Of Their Degree, But Most Of All Beware This Boy For On His Brow I See That Written Which Is Doom, Unless The Writing Be Erased.

The Leprosy Of Unreality Disfigured Every Human Creature In Attendance.

Prowling About The Rooms, Sitting Down, Getting Up, Stirring The Fire, Looking Out The Window, Teasing My Hair, Sitting Down To Write, Writing Nothing, Writing Something And Tearing It Up...

A Man Ain't Got No Right To Be A Public Man, Unless He Meets The Public Views.

There Are Hopes, The Bloom Of Whose Beauty Would Be Spoiled By The Trammels Of Description; Too Lovely, Too Delicate, Too Sacred For Words, They Should Only Be Known Through The Sympathy Of Hearts.

Men's Courses Will Foreshadow Certain Ends, To Which, If Persevered In, They Must Lead," Said Scrooge. "but If The Courses Be Departed From, The Ends Will Change.

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

"walter," She Said, Looking Full Upon Him With Her Affectionate Eyes, "like You, I Hope For Better Things. I Will Pray For Them, And Believe That They Will Arrive."

The Christmas Season Reminds Us That A Demonstration Of Religion Is Always Much Better Than A Definition Of It...especially In Front Of The Kids. Perhaps The Best Yuletide Decorations Are To Be Wreathed In Smiles And Wrapped In Hugs. The Miracle Of Christmas Is That A Baby Can Be So Decisive. It Is Good To Be Children Sometimes, And Never Better Than At Christmas, When Its Mighty Founder Was A Child Himself.

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!

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.

The Sum Of The Whole Is This: Walk And B« Happy! Walk And Be Healthy. The Best Of All Ways To Lengthen Ourdays, Is Notas 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.

I Hope That Real Love And Truth Are Stronger In The End Than Any Evil Or Misfortune In The World.

... 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.

Why Then We Should Drop Into Poetry.

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.

All Of Us Have Wonders Hidden In Our Breasts, Only Needing Circumstances To Evoke Them.

I Am Not Old, But My Young Way Was Never The Way To Age.

Champagne Is Simply One Of The Elegant Extras Of Life.

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;.

Have A Heart That Never Hardens

Troubles Are Exceedingly Gregarious In Their Nature, And Flying In Flocks Are Apt To Perch Capriciously.

I Know That She Deserves The Best And Purest Love The Heart Of Man Can Offer," Said Mrs. Maylie; "i Know That The Devotion And Affection Of Her Nature Require No Ordinary Return, But One That Shall Be Deep And Lasting.

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

Repression Is The Only Lasting Philosophy. The Dark Deference Of Fear And Slavery, My Friend, Will Keep The Dogs Obedient To The Whip, As Long As This Roof Shuts Out The Sky.

It Is Because I Think So Much Of Warm And Sensitive Hearts, That I Would Spare Them From Being Wounded.

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

Never Sign A Valentine With Your Own Name.

Ride On! Ride On Over All Obstacles And Win The Race.

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

Both Miss Lavinia And Miss Clarissa Had A Superstition, However, That He Would Have Declared His Passion, If He Had Not Been Cut Short In His Youth (at About Sixty) By Over-drinking His Constitution, And Over-doing An Attempt To Set It Right Again By Swilling Bath Water.

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

The Evening Wind Made Such A Disturbance Just Now, Among Some Tall Old Elm-trees At The Bottom Of The Garden, That Neither My Mother Nor Miss Betsey Could Forbear Glancing That Way. As The Elms Bent To One Another, Like Giants Who Were Whispering Secrets, And After A Few Seconds Of Such Repose, Fell Into A Violent Flurry, Tossing Their Wild Arms About, As If Their Late Confidences Were Really Too Wicked For Their Peace Of Mind.

Vices Are Sometimes Only Virtues Carried To Excess!

The First Diabolical Character Who Intruded Himself On My Peaceful Youth (as I Called To Mind That Day At Dullborough), Was A Certain Captain Murderer. This Wretch Must Have Been An Off-shoot Of The Blue Beard Family, But I Had No Suspicion Of The Consanguinity In Those Times. His Warning Name Would Seem To Have Awakened No General Prejudice Against Him, For He Was Admitted Into The Best Society And Possessed Immense Wealth. Captain Murderer's Mission Was Matrimony, And The Gratification Of A Cannibal Appetite With Tender Brides.

There Was No Wind; There Was No Passing Shadow On The Deep Shade Of The Night; There Was No Noise. The City Lay Behind Him, Lighted Here And There, And Starry Worlds Were Hidden By The Masonry Of Spire And Roof That Hardly Made Out Any Shapes Against The Sky. Dark And Lonely Distance Lay Around Him Everywhere, And The Clocks Were Faintly Striking Two.

The Young Woman Who Brought Me Acquainted With Captain Murderer Had A Fiendish Enjoyment Of My Terrors, And Used To Begin, I Remember - As A Sort Of Introductory Overture - By Clawing The Air With Both Hands, And Uttering A Long Low Hollow Groan. So Acutely Did I Suffer From This Ceremony In Combination With This Infernal Captain, That I Sometimes Used To Plead I Thought I Was Hardly Strong Enough And Old Enough To Hear The Story Again Just Yet.

The Wine-shops Breed, In Physical Atmosphere Of Malaria And A Moral Pestilence Of Envy And Vengeance, The Men Of Crime And Revolution.

A Tranquil Summer Sunset Shone Upon Him As He Approached The End Of His Walk, And Passed Through The Meadows By The River Side. He Had That Sense Of Peace, And Of Being Lightened Of A Weight Of Care, Which Country Quiet Awakens In The Breasts Of Dwellers In Towns.

Christmas A Humbug, Uncle!" Said Scrooge's Nephew. "you Don't Mean That, I Am Sure?" "i Do," Said Scrooge. "merry Christmas! What Right Have You To Be Merry? What Reason Have You To Be Merry? You're Poor Enough.

Merry Christmas

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.

The Night Crept On Apace, The Moon Went Down, The Stars Grew Pale And Dim, And Morning, Cold As They, Slowly Approached. Then, From Behind A Distant Hill, The Noble Sun Rose Up, Driving The Mists In Phantom Shapes Before It, And Clearing The Earth Of Their Ghostly Forms Till Darkness Came Again.

I Had Neither The Good Sense Nor The Good Feeling To Know That This Was All My Fault, And That If I Had Been Easier With Joe, Joe Would Have Been Easier With Me. I Felt Impatient Of Him And Out Of Temper With Him; In Which Condition He Heaped Coals Of Fire On My Head.

Words Of Wisdom

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

Never, Never, Before Heaven, Have I Thought Of You But As The Single, Bright, Pure, Blessed Recollection Of My Boyhood And My Youth. Never Have I From The First, And Never Shall I To The Last, Regard Your Part In My Life, But As Something Sacred, Never To Be Lightly Thought Of, Never To Be Esteemed Enough, Never, Until Death, To Be Forgotten.

Oh The Nerves, The Nerves; The Mysteries Of This Machine Called Man! Oh The Little That Unhinges It, Poor Creatures That We Are!

Man Cannot Really Improve Himself Without Improving Others.

I Feel An Earnest And Humble Desire, And Shall Do Till I Die, To Increase The Stock Of Harmless Cheerfulness.

Whether I Shall Turn Out To Be The Hero Of My Own Life, Or Whether That Station Will Be Held By Anybody Else, These Pages Must Show.

When We Came Within Sight Of The Sea, The Waves On The Horizon, Caught At Intervals Above The Rolling Abyss, Were Like Glimpses Of Another Shore With Towers And Buildings.

All Is Going On As It Was Wont. The Waves Are Hoarse With Repetition Of Their Mystery; The Dust Lies Piled Upon The Shore; The Sea-birds Soar And Hover; The Winds And Clouds Go Forth Upon Their Trackless Flight; The White Arms Beckon, In The Moonlight, To The Invisible Country Far Away.

Family Not Only Need To Consist Of Merely Those Whom We Share Blood, But Also For Those Whom We'd Give Blood.

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.

Annual Income Twenty Pounds, Annual Expenditure Nineteen Six, Result Happiness. Annual Income Twenty Pounds, Annual Expenditure Twenty Pound Ought And Six, Result Misery.

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!

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

Words Of Wisdom

For Not An Orphan In The Wide World Can Be So Deserted As The Child Who Is An Outcast From A Living Parent's Love.

Facts Alone Are Wanted In Life. Plant Nothing Else, And Root Out Everything Else.

The Broken Heart. You Think You Will Die, But You Just Keep Living, Day After Day After Terrible Day.

There Is Something Indefinably Keen And Wan About Her Anatomy, And She Has A Watchful Way Of Looking Out Of The Corners Of Her Eyes Without Turning Her Head Which Could Be Pleasantly Dispensed With, Especially When She Is In An Ill Humour And Near Knives. Through All The Good Taste Of Her Dress And Little Adornments, These Objections So Express Themselves That She Seems To Go About Like A Very Neat She-wolf Imperfectly Tamed.

Suffering Has Been Stronger Than All Other Teaching, And Has Taught Me To Understand What Your Heart Used To Be. I Have Been Bent And Broken, But - I Hope - Into A Better Shape.

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.

Life Is Made Of Ever So Many Partings Welded Together.

"she's A Very Charming And Delightful Creature," Quoth Mr. Robert Sawyer, In Reply; "and Has Only One Fault That I Know Of, Ben. It Happens, Unfortunately, That That Single Blemish Is A Want Of Taste. She Don't Like Me."

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.

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.

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.

Mrs. Boffin, Insisting That Bella Should Make Tomorrow's Expedition In The Chariot, She Went Home In Great Grandeur. Mrs. Wilfer And Miss Lavinia Had Speculated Much On The Probabilities And Improbabilities Of Her Coming In This Gorgeous State, And, On Beholding The Chariot From The Window At Which They Were Secreted To Look Out For It, Agreed That It Must Be Detained At The Door As Long As Possible, For The Mortification And Confusion Of The Neighbours.

This Is A World Of Action, And Not Moping And Droning In.

Every Idiot Who Goes About With A 'merry Christmas' On His Lips Should Be Boiled With His Own Pudding, And Buried With A Stake Of Holly Through His Heart.

Merry Christmas

I Had Considered How The Things That Never Happen, Are Often As Much Realities To Us, In Their Effects, As Those That Are Accomplished.

Words Of Wisdom

I Think It Impossible, Utterly Impossible, For Any Englishman To Live Here [in America], And Be Happy.

Father Time Is Not Always A Hard Parent And Though He Tarries For None Of His Children, Often Lays His Hand Lightly Upon Those Who Have Used Him Well; Making Them Old Men And Women Inexorably Enough, But Leaving Their Hearts And Spirits Young And In Full Vigor. With Such People The Gray Head Is But The Impression Of The Old Fellow's Hand In Giving Them His Blessing, And Every Wrinkle But A Notch In The Quiet Calendar Of A Well-spent Life.

There Lives At Least One Being Who Can Never Change-one Being Who Would Be Content To Devote His Whole Existence To Your Happiness-who Lives But In Your Eyes-who Breathes But In Your Smiles-who Bears The Heavy Burden Of Life Itself Only For You.

Burdens Of Life

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.

It Is One Of Those Problems Of Human Nature, Which May Be Noted Down, But Not Solved; - Although Ralph Felt No Remorse At That Moment For His Conduct Towards The Innocent, True-hearted Girl; Although His Libertine Clients Had Done Precisely What He Had Expected, Precisely What He Most Wished, And Precisely What Would Tend Most To His Advantage, Still He Hated Them For Doing It, From The Very Bottom Of His Soul.

... As Lonesome As A Kitten In A Wash-house Copper With The Lid On.

Thus Violent Deeds Live After Men Upon The Earth, And Traces Of War And Bloodshed Will Survive In Mournful Shapes Long After Those Who Worked The Desolation Are But Atoms Of Earth Themselves.

In The Little World In Which Children Have Their Existence, Whosoever Brings Them Up, There Is Nothing So Finely Perceived And So Finely Felt, As Injustice.

My Dear If You Could Give Me A Cup Of Tea To Clear My Muddle Of A Head I Should Better Understand Your Affairs.

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

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.

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

Pause You Who Read This, And Think For A Moment Of The Long Chain Of Iron Or Gold, Of Thorns Or Flowers, That Would Never Have Bound You, But For The Formation Of The First Link On One Memorable Day.

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

Words Of Wisdom

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.

She Had Gained A Reputation For Beauty, And (which Is Often Another Thing) Was Beautiful.

Along The Paris Streets, The Death-carts Rumble, Hollow And Harsh. Six Tumbrils Carry The Day's Wine To La Guillotine.

"you Are A Boy," Said Mr. Dombey, Suddenly And Almost Fiercely; "and What You Think Of, Or Affect To Think Of, Is Of Little Consequence. You Have Done Well, Sir. Don't Undo It."

You Should Know," Said Estella. "i Am What You Have Made Me. Take All The Praise, Take All The Blame; Take All The Success, Take All The Failure; In Short, Take Me.

I Never Had One Hour's Happiness In Her Society, And Yet My Mind All Round The Four-and-twenty Hours Was Harping On The Happiness Of Having Her With Me Unto Death.

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.

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.

The Sun,--the Bright Sun, That Brings Back, Not Light Alone, But New Life, And Hope, And Freshness To Man--burst Upon The Crowded City In Clear And Radiant Glory. Through Costly-coloured Glass And Paper-mended Window, Through Cathedral Dome And Rotten Crevice, It Shed Its Equal Ray.

....that The Mounds Of Ices, And The Bowls Of Mint-julep And Sherry Cobbler They Make In These Latitudes, Are Refreshments Never To Be Thought Of Afterwards, In Summer, By Those Who Would Preserve Contented Minds.

Poetry Makes Life What Lights And Music Do The Stage.

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.

"we Will Wait," Answered Little Alice, Taking Nettie's Hand In Hers, And Looking Up To The Sky, "we Will Wait - Ever Constant And True - Till The Times Have Got So Changed As That Everything Helps Us Out, And Nothing Makes Us Ridiculous, And The Fairies Have Come Back. We Will Wait - Ever Constant And True - Till We Are Eighty, Ninety, Or One Hundred. And Then The Fairies Will Send Us Children, And We Will Help Them Out, Poor Pretty Little Creatures, If They Pretend Ever So Much."

Them Which Is Of Other Naturs Thinks Different.

May I Tell You Why It Seems To Me A Good Thing For Us To Remember Wrong That Has Been Done Us? That We May Forgive It.

The Ocean Asks For Nothing But Those Who Stand By Her Shores Gradually Attune Themselves To Her Rhythm.

"would You, Do You, My Dear?" Rejoined The Captain ... "i Don't Know. It's Difficult Navigation. She's Very Hard To Carry On With, My Dear. You Never Can Tell How She'll Head, You See. She's Full One Minute, And Round Upon You Next."

Circumstances Beyond My Individual Control.

Express Yourself

When I Have Heard Him Talking To Papa During The Sittings For The Picture, I Have Sat Wondering Whether It Could Be That He Has No Belief In Anybody Else, Because He Has No Belief In Himself.

Words Of Wisdom

Least Said, Soonest Mended

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

You Can't Make A Head And Brains Out Of A Brass Knob With Nothing In It. You Couldn't Do It When Your Uncle George Was Living Much Less When He's Dead.

And Thus Ever By Day And Night, Under The Sun And Under The Stars, Climbing The Dusty Hills And Toiling Along The Weary Plains, Journeying By Land And Journeying By Sea, Coming And Going So Strangely, To Meet And To Act And React On One Another, Move All We Restless Travellers Through The Pilgrimage Of Life.

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.

There Was Not One Straight Floor From The Foundation To The Roof; The Ceilings Were So Fantastically Clouded By Smoke And Dust, That Old Women Might Have Told Fortunes In Them Better Than In Grouts Of Tea.

Some Happy Talent, And Some Fortunate Opportunity, May Form The Two Sides Of The Ladder On Which Some Men Mount, But The Rounds Of That Ladder Must Be Made Of Stuff To Stand Wear And Tear; And There Is No Substitute For Thorough-going, Ardent, And Sincere Earnestness.

It May Be Only Small Injustice That The Child Can Be Exposed To; But The Child Is Small, And Its World Is Small, And Its Rocking-horse Stands As Many Hands High, According To Scale, As A Big-boned Irish Hunter.

Hours Are Golden Links--god's Tokens Reaching Heaven.

Renunciation Remains Sorrow, Though A Sorrow Borne Willingly.

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.

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

Words Of Wisdom

That Sort Of Half Sigh, Which, Accompanied By Two Or Three Slight Nods Of The Head, Is Pity's Small Change In General Society.

The Men Who Learn Endurance, Are They Who Call The Whole World, Brother.

I Loved Her Against Reason, Against Promise, Against Peace, Against Hope, Against Happiness, Against All Discouragement That Could Be.

Take A Little Timecount Five-and-twenty,tattycoram.

It Was The Best Of Times, It Was The Worst Of Times, It Was The Age Of Wisdom, It Was The Age Of Foolishness, It Was The Epoch Of Belief, It Was The Epoch Of Incredulity, It Was The Season Of Light, It Was The Season Of Darkness, It Was The Spring Of Hope, It Was The Winter Of Despair.

Consider Nothing Impossible, Then Treat Possiblities As Probabilities.

Dreams Are The Bright Creatures Of Poem And Legend, Who Sport On Earth In The Night Season, And Melt Away In The First Beam Of The Sun, Which Lights Grim Care And Stern Reality On Their Daily Pilgrimage Through The World.

The Aphorism "whatever Is, Is Right," Would Be As Final As It Is Lazy, Did It Not Include The Troublesome Consequence That Nothing That Ever Was, Was Wrong.

... I Have Read In Your Face, As Plain As If It Was A Book, That But For Some Trouble And Sorrow We Should Never Know Half The Good There Is About Us.

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.

She Was Truest To Them In The Season Of Trial, As All The Quietly Loyal And Good Will Always Be.

I Was Always Treated As If I Had Insisted On Being Born, In Opposition To The Dictates Of Reason, Religion, And Morality, And Against The Dissuadinig Arguments Of My Best Friends.

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

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

It Was The Best Of Times, It Was The Worst Of Times.

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