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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.

-Charles Dickens

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I Am No More

Charles Dickens

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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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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.

"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.

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.

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.

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!

Keep Out Of Chancery. It's Being Ground To Bits In A Slow Mill; It's Being Roasted At A Slow Fire; It's Being Stung To Death By Single Bees; It's Being Drowned By Drops; It's Going Mad By Grains.

Train Up A Fig Tree In The Way It Should Go, And When You Are Old Sit Under The Shade Of It.

As The Gloom And Shadow Thickened Behind Him, In That Place Where It Had Been Gathering So Darkly, It Took, By Slow Degrees, - Or Out Of It There Came, By Some Unreal, Unsubstantial Process - Not To Be Traced By Any Human Sense, - An Awful Likeness Of Himself!

I Have Heard It Said That As We Keep Our Birthdays When We Are Alive, So The Ghosts Of Dead People, Who Are Not Easy In Their Graves, Keep The Day They Died Upon.

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

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.

The Worst Class Of Sum Worked In The Every-day World Is Cyphered By The Diseased Arithmeticians Who Are Always In The Rule Of Subtraction As To The Merits And Successes Of Others, And Never In Addition As To Their Own.

Words Of Wisdom

Joe Gave Me Some More Gravy.

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.

You Might, From Your Appearance, Be The Wife Of Lucifer,” Said Miss Pross, In Her Breathing. “nevertheless, You Shall Not Get The Better Of Me. I Am An Englishwoman.

But The Moon Came Slowly Up In All Her Gentle Glory, And The Stars Looked Out, And Through The Small Compass Of The Grated Window, As Through The Narrow Crevice Of One Good Deed In A Murky Life Of Guilt, The Face Of Heaven Shone Bright And Merciful. He Raised His Head; Gazed Upward At The Quiet Sky, Which Seemed To Smile Upon The Earth In Sadness, As If The Night, More Thoughtful Than The Day, Looked Down In Sorrow On The Sufferings And Evil Deeds Of Men; And Felt Its Peace Sink Deep Into His Heart.

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.

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

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.

And It Was Always Said Of Him, That He Knew How To Keep Christmas Well, If Any Man Alive Possessed The Knowledge. May That Be Truly Said Of Us, And All Of Us! And So, As Tiny Tim Observed, God Bless Us, Every One!

Now I Am In The Garden At The Back . . . A Very Preserve Of Butterflies As I Remember It, With A High Fence, And A Gate . . . Where The Fruit Clusters On The Trees, Riper And Richer Than Fruit Has Ever Been Since, In Any Other Garden, And Where My Mother Gathers Some In A Basket While I Stand By, Bolting Furtive Gooseberries, And Trying To Look Unnerved.

... I Had A Latent Impression That There Was Something Decidedly Fine In Mr. Wopsle's Elocution - Not For Old Associations' Sake, I Am Afraid, But Because It Was Very Slow, Very Dreary, Very Up-hill And Down-hill, And Very Unlike Any Way In Which Any Man In Any Natural Circumstances Of Life Or Death Ever Expressed Himself About Anything.

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.

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.

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

He Was Wise Enough To Know That Nothing Ever Happened On This Globe, For Good, At Which Some People Did Not Have Their Fill Of Laughter In The Outset

I Have Been Bent And Broken, But - I Hope - Into A Better Shape.

That Glorious Vision Of Doing Good Is So Often The Sanguine Mirage Of So Many Good Minds.

Annual Income Is £ 20, The Cost Is 19, You Will Feel Happiness. If Annual Income Of £ 20, The Cost Is £ 20.6, You Will See Suffering

You Will Profit By The Failure, And Will Avoid It Another Time. I Have Done A Similar Thing Myself, In Construction, Often. Every Failure Teaches A Man Something, If He Will Learn.

Words Of Wisdom

The Bearings Of This Observation Lays In The Application Of It.

I Recollected One Story There Was In The Village, How That On A Certain Night In The Year (it Might Be That Very Night For Anything I Knew), All The Dead People Came Out Of The Ground And Sat At The Heads Of Their Own Graves Till Morning.

With Throbbing Veins And Burning Skin, Eyes Wild And Heavy, Thoughts Hurried And Disordered, He Felt As Though The Light Were A Reproach, And Shrunk Involuntarily From The Day As If He Were Some Foul And Hideous Thing.

... Waiter! Raw Beef-steak For The Gentleman's Eye,-nothing Like Raw Beef-steak For A Bruise, Sir; Cold Lamp-post Very Good, But Lamp-post Inconvenient-damned Odd Standing In The Open Street Half-an-hour, With Your Eye Against A Lamp.

I Have Had My Share Of Sorrows-more Than The Common Lot, Perhaps, But I Have Borne Them Ill. I Have Broken Where I Should Have Bent; And Have Mused And Brooded, When My Spirit Should Have Mixed With All God's Great Creation.

I Don't Remember Who Was There, Except Dora. I Have Not The Least Idea What We Had For Dinner, Besides Dora. My Impression Is, That I Dined Off Dora, Entirely, And Sent Away Half-a-dozen Plates Untouched. I Sat Next To Her. I Talked To Her. She Had The Most Delightful Little Voice, The Gayest Little Laugh, The Pleasantest And Most Fascinating Little Ways, That Ever Led A Lost Youth Into Hopeless Slavery. She Was Rather Diminutive Altogether. So Much The More Precious, I Thought.

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.'

If Ever Household Affections And Loves Are Graceful Things, They Are Graceful In The Poor. The Ties That Bind The Wealthy And The Proud To Home May Be Forged On Earth, But Those Which Link The Poor Man To His Humble Hearth Are Of The True Metal And Bear The Stamp Of Heaven.

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.

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

Money And Goods Are Certainly The Best Of References.

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

There Is A Passion For Hunting Something Deeply Implanted In The Human Breast.

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.

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

There Are Only Two Styles Of Portrait Painting; The Serious And The Smirk.

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. To Begin My Life With The Beginning Of My Life, I Record That I Was Born (as I Have Been Informed And Believe) On A Friday, At Twelve O’clock At Night. It Was Remarked That The Clock Began To Strike, And I Began To Cry, Simultaneously.

It Is A Principle Of His That No Man Who Was Not A True Gentleman At Heart, Ever Was, Since The World Began, A True Gentleman In Manner. He Says, No Varnish Can Hide The Grain Of The Wood; And That The More Varnish You Put On, The More The Grain Will Express Itself.

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

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.

... When He Saw Her Sitting There All Alone, So Young, And Good, And Beautiful, And Kind To Him; And Heard Her Thrilling Voice, So Natural And Sweet, And Such A Golden Link Between Him And All His Life's Love And Happiness, Rising Out Of The Silence; He Turned His Face Away, And Hid His Tears.

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

I Know Nothing Of Philosophical Philanthropy. But I Know What I Have Seen, And What I Have Looked In The Face In This World Here, Where I Find Myself. And I Tell You This, My Friend, That There Are People (men And Women Both, Unfortunately) Who Have No Good In Them-none. That There Are People Whom It Is Necessary To Detest Without Compromise. That There Are People Who Must Be Dealt With As Enemies Of The Human Race. That There Are People Who Have No Human Heart, And Who Must Be Crushed Like Savage Beasts And Cleared Out Of The Way.

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.

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

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 Was So Humiliated, Hurt, Spurned, Offended, Angry, Sorry--i Cannot Hit Upon The Right Name For The Smart--god Knows What Its Name Was--that Tears Started To My Eyes.

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.

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.

If I Dropped A Tear Upon Your Hand, May It Wither It Up! If I Spoke A Gentle Word In Your Hearing, May It Deafen You! If I Touched You With My Lips, May The Touch Be Poison To You! A Curse Upon This Roof That Gave Me Shelter! Sorrow And Shame Upon Your Head! Ruin Upon All Belonging To You!

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.

It's In Vain To Recall The Past, Unless It Works Some Influence Upon The Present.

There Wasn't Room To Swing A Cat There.

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 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.

I Am Well Aware That I Am The 'umblest Person Going. . . . My Mother Is Likewise A Very 'umble Person. We Live In A 'umble Abode.

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.

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.

It Always Grieves Me To Contemplate The Initiation Of Children Into The Ways Of Life When They Are Scarcely More Than Infants. It Checks Their Confidence And Simplicity, Two Of The Best Qualities That Heaven Gives Them, And Demands That They Share Our Sorrows Before They Are Capable Of Entering Into Our Enjoyments.

A Most Excellent Man, Though I Could Have Wished His Trousers Not Quite So Tight In Some Places And Not Quite So Loose In Others.

Heaven Above Was Blue, And Earth Beneath Was Green; The River Glistened Like A Path Of Diamonds In The Sun; The Birds Poured Forth Their Songs From The Shady Trees; The Lark Soared High Above The Waving Corn; And The Deep Buzz Of Insects Filled The Air.

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

No One Has The Least Regard For The Man; With Them All, He Has Been An Object Of Avoidance, Suspicion, And Aversion; But The Spark Of Life Within Him Is Curiously Separable From Himself Now, And They Have A Deep Interest In It, Probably Because It Is Life, And They Are Living And Must Die.

Words Of Wisdom

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.

"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."

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

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.

Mrs. Boffin And Me, Ma'am, Are Plain People, And We Don't Want To Pretend To Anything, Nor Yet To Go Round And Round At Anything Because There's Always A Straight Way To Everything.

Words Of Wisdom

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

You Speak So Feelingly And So Manfully, Charles Darnay

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.

Satisfy Yourself Beyond All Doubt That You Are Qualified For The Course To Which You Now Aspire.....and Try To Achieve Something In Your Own Land Before You Venture On A Strange One.

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.

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 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.

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

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.

Under None Of The Accredited Ghostly Circumstances, And Environed By None Of The Conventional Ghostly Surroundings, Did I First Make Acquaintance With The House Which Is The Subject Of This Christmas Piece. I Saw It In The Daylight, With The Sun Upon It. There Was No Wind, No Rain, No Lightning, No Thunder, No Awful Or Unwonted Circumstance, Of Any Kind, To Heighten Its Effect.

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.

Mr Jarndyce, And Prevented His Going Any Farther, When He Had Remarked That There Were Two Classes Of Charitable People: One, The People Who Did A Little And Made A Great Deal Of Noise; The Other, The People Who Did A Great Deal And Made No Noise At All.

Life Is Made Of Ever So Many Partings Welded Together.

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

Don't Be Afraid! We Won't Make An Author Of You, While There's An Honest Trade To Be Learnt, Or Brick-making To Turn To.

Friendship? Yes Please.

Nobody Near Me Here, But Rats, And They Are Fine Stealthy Secret Fellows.

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.

I Am Light As A Feather, I Am As Happy As An Angel, I Am As Merry As A Schoolboy

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.

We Are So Very 'umble.

Black Are The Brooding Clouds And Troubled The Deep Waters, When The Sea Of Thought, First Heaving From A Calm, Gives Up Its Dead

"it's An Old Habit Of Mine, Wal'r," Said The Captain, "any Time These Fifty Year. When You See Ned Cuttle Bite His Nails, Wal'r, Then You May Know That Ned Cuttle's Aground."

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.

You Are In Every Line I Have Ever Read.

The Man Who Now Confronted Gashford, Was A Squat, Thickset Personage, With A Low, Retreating Forehead, A Coarse Shock Head Of Hair, And Eyes So Small And Near Together, That His Broken Nose Alone Seemed To Prevent Their Meeting And Fusing Into One Of The Usual Size.

It Is Not Possible To Know How Far The Influence Of Any Amiable, Honest-hearted Duty-doing Man Flies Out Into The World, But It Is Very Possible To Know How It Has Touched One's Self In Going By.

The Law Is An Ass, An Idiot.

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

We Must Scrunch Or Be Scrunched.

He Was By No Means Opposed To Hard Labour On Principle, For He Would Work Away At A Cricket-match By The Day Together, - Running, And Catching, And Batting, And Bowling, And Revelling In Toil Which Would Exhaust A Galley-slave.

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

I Wear The Chains I Forged In Life.

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

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.

Nature Gives To Every Time And Season Some Beauties Of Its Own.

"well," Said My Aunt, "this Is His Boy - His Son. He Would Be As Like His Father As It's Possible To Be, If He Was Not So Like His Mother, Too."

... The Woman Who Grows Up With The Idea That She Is Simply To Be An Amiable Animal, To Be Caressed And Coaxed, Is Invariably A Bitterly Disappointed Woman. A Game Of Chess Will Cure Such A Conceit Forever. The Woman That Knows The Most, Thinks The Most, Feels The Most, Is The Most. Intellectual Affection Is The Only Lasting Love. Love That Has A Game Of Chess In It Can Checkmate Any Man And Solve The Problem Of Life.

Have A Heart That Never Hardens, And A Temper That Never Tires, And A Touch That Never Hurts.

A Good Thing Can't Be Cruel.

To Be Shelterless And Alone In The Open Country, Hearing The Wind Moan And Watching For Day Through The Whole Long Weary Night; To Listen To The Falling Rain, And Crouch For Warmth Beneath The Lee Of Some Old Barn Or Rick, Or In The Hollow Of A Tree; Are Dismal Things - But Not So Dismal As The Wandering Up And Down Where Shelter Is, And Beds And Sleepers Are By Thousands; A Houseless Rejected Creature.

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.

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 The Voices In The Waves Are Always Whispering To Florence, In Their Ceaseless Murmuring, Of Love - Of Love, Eternal And Illimitable, Not Bounded By The Confines Of This World, Or By The End Of Time, But Ranging Still, Beyond The Sea, Beyond The Sky, To The Invisible Country Far Away!

Cheerfulness And Contentment Are Great Beautifiers, And Are Famous Preservers Of Good Looks.

Remembrance, Like A Candle, Burns Brightest At Christmastime.

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.

Moths, And All Sorts Of Ugly Creatures, Hover About A Lighted Candle. Can The Candle Help It?

No One Who Can Read, Ever Looks At A Book, Even Unopened On A Shelf, Like One Who Cannot.

Words Of Wisdom

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.

... 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.

Darkness Is Cheap, And Scrooge Liked It.

A Demd, Damp, Moist, Unpleasant Body!

An Observer Of Men Who Finds Himself Steadily Repelled By Some Apparently Trifling Thing In A Stranger Is Right To Give It Great Weight. It May Be The Clue To The Whole Mystery. A Hair Or Two Will Show Where A Lion Is Hidden. A Very Little Key Will Open A Very Heavy Door.

I Have Always Thought Of Christmas Time... As A Good Time; A Kind, Forgiving, Charitable, Pleasant Time.

No Space Of Regret Can Make Amends For One Life's Opportunity Misused

Vices Are Sometimes Only Virtues Carried To Excess!

We Know, Mr. Weller - We, Who Are Men Of The World - That A Good Uniform Must Work Its Way With The Women, Sooner Or Later.

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.

Little Red Riding Hood Was My First Love. I Felt That If I Could Have Married Little Red Riding Hood, I Should Have Known Perfect Bliss.

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!

I Believe No Satirist Could Breathe This Air. If Another Juvenal Or Swift Could Rise Up Among Us Tomorrow, He Would Be Hunted Down. If You Have Any Knowledge Of Our Literature, And Can Give Me The Name Of Any Man, American Born And Bred, Who Has Anatomised Our Follies As A People, And Not As This Or That Party; And Who Has Escaped The Foulest And Most Brutal Slander, The Most Inveterate Hatred And Intolerant Pursuit; It Will Be A Strange Name In My Ears, Believe Me.

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!

The Leprosy Of Unreality Disfigured Every Human Creature In Attendance.

Veels Vithin Veels, A Prison In A Prison.

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

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

The Clouds Were Drifting Over The Moon At Their Giddiest Speed, At One Time Wholly Obscuring Her, At Another, Suffering Her To Burst Forth In Full Splendor And Shed Her Light On All The Objects Around; Anon, Driving Over Her Again, With Increased Velocity, And Shrouding Everything In Darkness.

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.

The Receptive Attitude Enables One Mind To Fix Itself To Another As By Spiritual Grappling-irons. When You See That Every Word You Utter Us Taken In, And Weighed, And Measured By Your Listener, You Cannot Free Yourself From The Influence Of His Presence. You Are Compelled To Have In Your Thoughts Not Only The Words You Utter, But The Man To Whom They Are Spoken. You Must Not Only Talk, And Talk Well, But You Must Talk To Him.

Let Me Feel Now What Sharp Distress I May.

Great Expectations

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.

Her Contempt For Me Was So Strong, That It Became Infectious, And I Caught It.

Great Expectations

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.

Over The Whole, A Young Lady Presided, Whose Gloomy Haughtiness As She Surveyed The Street, Announced A Deep-seated Grievance Against Society, And An Implacable Determination To Be Avenged.

It Was One Of Those March Days When The Sun Shines Hot And The Wind Blows Cold: When It Is Summer In The Light, And Winter In The Shade.

Mr. Cruncher... Always Spoke Of The Year Of Our Lord As Anna Dominoes: Apparently Under The Impression That The Christian Era Dated From The Invention Of A Popular Game, By A Lady Who Had Bestowed Her Name Upon It.

It Was The Beginning Of A Day In June; The Deep Blue Sky Unsullied By A Cloud, And Teeming With Brilliant Light. The Streets Were, As Yet, Nearly Free From Passengers, The Houses And Shops Were Closed, And The Healthy Air Of Morning Fell Like Breath From Angels, On The Sleeping Town.

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

It Is An Old Prerogative Of Kings To Govern Everything But Their Passions.

Thus, It Comes To Pass, That A Certain Room In A Certain Old Hall, Where A Certain Bad Lord, Baronet, Knight, Or Gentleman, Shot Himself, Has Certain Planks In The Floor From Which The Blood Will Not Be Taken Out. You May Scrape And Scrape, As The Present Owner Has Done, Or Plane And Plane, As His Father Did, Or Scrub And Scrub, As His Grandfather Did, Or Burn And Burn With Strong Acids, As His Great-grandfather Did, But, There The Blood Will Still Be - No Redder And No Paler - No More And No Less - Always Just The Same.

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.

....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.

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.

Your Tale Is Of The Longest," Observed Monks, Moving Restlessly In His Chair. It Is A True Tale Of Grief And Trial, And Sorrow, Young Man," Returned Mr. Brownlow, "and Such Tales Usually Are; If It Were One Of Unmixed Joy And Happiness, It Would Be Very Brief.

Surprises, Like Misfortunes, Seldom Come Alone.

Words Of Wisdom

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

I Saw That The Bride Within The Bridal Dress Had Withered Like The Dress, And Like The Flowers, And Had No Brightness Left But The Brightness Of Her Sunken Eyes.

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.

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

His Gaze Wandered From The Windows To The Stars, As If He Would Have Read In Them Something That Was Hidden From Him. Many Of Us Would, If We Could; But None Of Us So Much As Know Our Letters In The Stars Yet - Or Seem Likely To Do It, In This State Of Existence - And Few Languages Can Be Read Until Their Alphabets Are Mastered.

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.

The Rain And Hail Pattered Against The Glass; The Chimneys Quaked And Rocked; The Crazy Casement Rattled With The Wind, As Though An Impatient Hand Inside Were Striving To Burst It Open. But No Hand Was There, And It Opened No More.

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

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 May Be An Undigested Bit Of Beef, A Blot Of Mustard, A Crumb Of Cheese, A Fragment Of Underdone Potato. There's More Of Gravy Than Of Grave About You, Whatever You Are!

A Contented Spirit Is The Sweetness Of Existence.

It Is When Our Budding Hopes Are Nipped Beyond Recovery By Some Rough Wind, That We Are The Most Disposed To Picture To Ourselves What Flowers They Might Have Borne, If They Had Flourished . . .

An Unfinished Coffin On Black Tressels, Which Stood In The Middle Of The Shop, Looked So Gloomy And Death-like That A Cold Tremble Came Over Him, Every Time His Eyes Wandered In The Direction Of The Dismal Object: From Which He Almost Expected To See Some Frightful Form Slowly Rear Its Head, To Drive Him Mad With Terror.

Poverty And Oysters Always Seem To Go Together.

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.

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!

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

"next," Said Mrs Wilfer With A Wave Of Her Gloves, Expressive Of Abdication Under Protest From The Culinary Throne, "i Would Recommend Examination Of The Bacon In The Saucepan On The Fire, And Also Of The Potatoes By The Application Of A Fork. Preparation Of The Greens Will Further Become Necessary If You Persist In This Unseemly Demeanour."

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.

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.

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!

It Was Very Dark; But In The Murky Sky There Were Masses Of Cloud Which Shone With A Lurid Light, Like Monstrous Heaps Of Copper That Had Been Heated In A Furnace, And Were Growing Cold.

I Revere The Memory Of Mr. F. As An Estimable Man And Most Indulgent Husband, Only Necessary To Mention Asparagus And It Appeared Or To Hint At Any Little Delicate Thing To Drink And It Came Like Magic In A Pint Bottle; It Was Not Ecstasy But It Was Comfort.

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.

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.

"ah, Miss, Hope Is An Excellent Thing For Such As Has The Spirits To Bear It!" Said Mrs Wickam, Shaking Her Head. "my Own Spirits Is Not Equal To It, But I Don't Owe It Any Grudge. I Envys Them That Is So Blest!"

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.

On The Motionless Branches Of Some Trees, Autumn Berries Hung Like Clusters Of Coral Beads, As In Those Fabled Orchards Where The Fruits Were Jewels . . .

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.

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.

Change Begets Change. Nothing Propagates So Fast. If A Man Habituated To A Narrow Circle Of Cares And Pleasures, Out Of Which He Seldom Travels, Step Beyond It, Though For Never So Brief A Space, His Departure From The Monotonous Scene On Which He Has Been An Actor Of Importance Would Seem To Be The Signal For Instant Confusion. The Mine Which Time Has Slowly Dug Beneath Familiar Objects Is Sprung In An Instant; And What Was Rock Before, Becomes But Sand And Dust.

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.

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