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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.

-Charles Dickens

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I Believe No Satirist

Charles Dickens

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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.

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There Can't Be A Quarrel Without Two Parties, And I Won't Be One. I Will Be A Friend To You In Spite Of You. So Now You Know What You've Got To Expect

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

When The Wind Is Blowing And The Sleet Or Rain Is Driving Against The Dark Windows, I Love To Sit By The Fire, Thinking Of What I Have Read In Books Of Voyage And Travel.

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

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

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.

At Last, In The Dead Of The Night, When The Street Was Very Still Indeed, Little Dorrit Laid The Heavy Head Upon Her Bosom, And Soothed Her To Sleep. And Thus She Sat At The Gate, As It Were Alone; Looking Up At The Stars, And Seeing The Clouds Pass Over Them In Their Wild Flight-which Was The Dance At Little Dorrit's Party.

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.

... Take Another Glass Of Wine, And Excuse My Mentioning That Society As A Body Does Not Expect One To Be So Strictly Conscientious In Emptying One's Glass, As To Turn It Bottom Upwards With The Rim On One's Nose.

While The Flowers, Pale And Unreal In The Moonlight, Floated Away Upon The River; And Thus Do Greater Things That Once Were In Our Breasts, And Near Our Hearts, Flow From Us To The Eternal Sea.

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.

To Close The Eyes, And Give A Seemly Comfort To The Apparel Of The Dead, Is Poverty's Holiest Touch Of Nature.

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

Words Of Wisdom

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

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

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

It Is A Fair, Even-handed, Noble Adjustment Of Things, That While There Is Infection In Disease And Sorrow, There Is Nothing In The World So Irresistibly Contagious As Laughter And Good Humour.

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.

A Day Wasted On Others Is Not Wasted On One's Self.

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.

Heaven Suits The Back To The Burden.

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.

You Are Always Training Yourself To Be, Mind And Body, As Clear As Crystal, And You Always Are, And Never Change; Whereas I Am A Muddy, Solitary, Moping Weed.

But The Mere Truth Won't Do. You Must Have A Lawyer.

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

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

Self Confidence

I Can See Others In The Sunlight; I Can See Our Boats' Crews And Our Athletic Young Men On The Glistening Water, Or Speckled With The Moving Lights Of Sunlit Leaves; But I Myself Am Always In The Shadow Looking On. Not Unsympathetically, - God Forbid! - But Looking On Alone, Much As I Looked At Sylvia From The Shadows Of The Ruined House, Or Looked At The Red Gleam Shining Through The Farmer's Windows, And Listened To The Fall Of Dancing Feet, When All The Ruin Was Dark That Night In The Quadrangle.

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.

... Natural Affections And Instincts, My Dear Sir, Are The Most Beautiful Of The Almighty's Works, But Like Other Beautiful Works Of His, They Must Be Reared And Fostered, Or It Is As Natural That They Should Be Wholly Obscured, And That New Feelings Should Usurp Their Place, As It Is That The Sweetest Productions Of The Earth, Left Untended, Should Be Choked With Weeds And Briers.

Their Demeanor Is Invariably Morose, Sullen, Clownish And Repulsive. I Should Think There Is Not, On The Face Of The Earth, A People So Entirely Destitute Of Humor, Vivacity, Or The Capacity For Enjoyment.

The Cold Hoarfrost Glistened On The Tombstones, And Sparkled Like Rows Of Gems, Among The Stone Carvings Of The Old Church. The Snow Lay Hard And Crisp Upon The Ground; And Spread Over The Thickly-strewn Mounds Of Earth, So White And Smooth A Cover, That It Seemed As If Corpses Lay There, Hidden Only By Their Winding Sheets.

The Cramped Monotony Of My Existence Grinds Me Away By The Grain.

I Could Settle Down Into A State Of Equable Low Spirits, And Resign Myself To Coffee.

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.

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

... 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.

There Is No Such Passion In Human Nature, As The Passion For Gravy Among Commercial Gentlemen.

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

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.

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

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

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

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

There Was A Gay Fiction Among Us That We Were Constantly Enjoying Ourselves, And A Skeleton Truth That We Never Did. To The Best Of My Belief, Our Case Was In The Last Respect A Rather Common One.

Remembrance, Like A Candle, Burns Brightest At Christmastime.

We Must Scrunch Or Be Scrunched.

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.

If You Can't Get To Be Oncommon Through Going Straight, You'll Never Get To Do It Through Going Crooked. So Don't Tell No More On 'em, Pip, And Live Well And Die Happy.

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

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.

In The Moonlight Which Is Always Sad, As The Light Of The Sun Itself Is--as The Light Called Human Life Is--at Its Coming And Its Going.

Why Should I Disguise What You Know So Well, But What The Crowd Never Dream Of? We Companies Are All Birds Of Prey; Mere Birds Of Prey. The Only Question Is, Whether In Serving Our Own Turn, We Can Serve Yours Too; Whether In Double-lining Our Own Nest, We Can Put A Single Living Into Yours.

Love Is In All Things A Most Wonderful Teacher.

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

My Life Is One Demd Horrid Grind.

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.

The Aim Of Talk Should Be Like The Aim Of A Flying Arrow -- To Hit The Mark; But To This End There Must Be A Mark To Hit, That Is, There Must Be A Listener.

Every Traveler Has A Home Of His Own, And He Learns To Appreciate It The More From His Wandering.

And I Am Bored To Death With It. Bored To Death With This Place, Bored To Death With My Life, Bored To Death With Myself.

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.

And O There Are Days In This Life, Worth Life And Worth Death. And O What A Bright Old Song It Is, That O 'tis Love, 'tis Love, 'tis Love That Makes The World Go Round!

He Says-him As Was Here Just Now-'when Tom Shut Up The House, Mate, To Go To Rack, The Beds Was Left, All Made, Like As If Somebody Was A-going To Sleep In Every Bed. And If You Was To Walk Through The Bedrooms Now, You'd See The Ragged Mouldy Bedclothes A Heaving And A Heaving Like Seas. And A Heaving And A Heaving With What?' He Says. 'why, With The Rats Under 'em.'

As He Glided Stealthily Along, Creeping Beneath The Shelter Of The Walls And Doorways, The Hideous Old Man Seemed Like Some Loathsome Reptile, Engendered In The Slime And Darkness Through Which He Moved: Crawling Forth, By Night, In Search Of Some Rich Offal For A Meal.

... She Indulged In Melancholy - That Cheapest And Most Accessible Of Luxuries.

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 Sight Of Me Is Good For Sore Eyes

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

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

I Had No Advice, No Counsel, No Encouragement, No Consolation, No Assistance, No Support, Of Any Kind, From Anyone, That I Can Call To Mind, As I Hope To Go To Heaven!

"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."

The Jovial Party Broke Up Next Morning. Breakings-up Are Capital Things In Our School-days, But In After Life They Are Painful Enough. Death, Self-interest, And Fortune's Changes, Are Every Day Breaking Up Many A Happy Group, And Scattering Them Far And Wide; And The Boys And Girls Never Come Back Again.

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.

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

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

"i Take My Leave Of You, Mr. Creakle, And All Of You," Said Mr. Mell, Glancing Round The Room, And Again Patting Me Gently On The Shoulders. "james Steerforth, The Best Wish I Can Leave You Is That You May Come To Be Ashamed Of What You Have Done Today. At Present I Would Prefer To See You Anything Rather Than A Friend, To Me, Or To Anyone In Whom I Feel An Interest."

... Still His Philanthropy Was Of That Gunpowderous Sort That The Difference Between It And Animosity Was Hard To Determine.

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

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.

The American Woman Is A Monstrosity.

Reflect Upon Your Present Blessings Of Which Every Man Has Many - Not On Your Past Misfortunes, Of Which All Men Have Some.

Marley Was Dead, To Begin With. There Is No Doubt Whatever About That. The Register Of His Burial Was Signed By The Clergyman, The Clerk, The Undertaker, And The Chief Mourner. Scrooge Signed It. And Scrooge's Name Was Good Upon 'change For Anything He Chose To Put His Hand To. Old Marley Was As Dead As A Door-nail.

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.

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

You Anticipate What I Would Say, Though You Cannot Know How Earnestly I Say It, How Earnestly I Feel It, Without Knowing My Secret Heart, And The Hopes And Fears And Anxieties With Which It Has Long Been Laden. Dear Doctor Manette, I Love Your Daughter Fondly, Dearly, Disinterestedly, Devotedly. If Ever There Were Love In The World, I Love Her.

Christmas Is A Time In Which, Of All Times In The Year, The Memory Of Every Remediable Sorrow, Wrong, And Trouble In The World Around Us, Should Be Active With Us, Not Less Than Our Own Experiences, For All Good.

Consider Nothing Impossible, Then Treat Possiblities As Probabilities.

But The Words She Spoke Of Mrs Harris, Lambs Could Not Forgive ... Nor Worms Forget.

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

He Was Bolder In The Daylight-most Men Are.

Words Of Wisdom

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.

Its Matter Was Not New To Me, But Was Presented In A New Aspect. It Shook Me In My Habit - The Habit Of Nine-tenths Of The World - Of Believing That All Was Right About Me, Because I Was Used To It.

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.

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

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

Christmas Carol

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

Lord, Keep My Memory Green.

Words Of Wisdom

It Is Known, To The Force Of A Single Pound Weight, What The Engine Will Do; But, Not All The Calculators Of The National Debt Can Tell Me The Capacity For Good Or Evil, For Love Or Hatred, For Patriotism Or Discontent, For The Decomposition Of Virtue Into Vice, Or The Reverse.

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.

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

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.

He Had A Sense Of His Dignity, Which Was Of The Most Exquisite Nature. He Could Detect A Design Upon It When Nobody Else Had Any Perception Of The Fact. His Life Was Made An Agony By The Number Of Fine Scalpels That He Felt To Be Incessantly Engaged In Dissecting His Dignity.

Mystery And Disappointment Are Not Absolutely Indispensable To The Growth Of Love, But They Are, Very Often, Its Powerful Auxiliaries.

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.

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.

A Moment, And Its Glory Was No More. The Sun Went Down Beneath The Long Dark Lines Of Hill And Cloud Which Piled Up In The West An Airy City, Wall Heaped On Wall, And Battlement On Battlement; The Light Was All Withdrawn; The Shining Church Turned Cold And Dark; The Stream Forgot To Smile; The Birds Were Silent; And The Gloom Of Winter Dwelt On Everything.

... Arthur Gride, Whose Bleared Eyes Gloated Only Over The Outward Beauties, And Were Blind To The Spirit Which Reigned Within, Evinced - A Fantastic Kind Of Warmth Certainly, But Not Exactly That Kind Of Warmth Of Feeling Which The Contemplation Of Virtue Usually Inspires.

Sudden Shifts And Changes Are No Bad Preparation For Political Life.

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

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

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.

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

A Man In Public Life Expects To Be Sneered At -- It Is The Fault Of His Elevated Situation, And Not Of Himself.

What Greater Gift Than The Love Of A Cat.

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.

She Better Liked To See Him Free And Happy, Even Than To Have Him Near Her, Because She Loved Him Better Than Herself.

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

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.'

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!

He Knew Enough Of The World To Know That There Is Nothing In It Better Than The Faithful Service Of The Heart.

I Do Not Know The American Gentleman, God Forgive Me For Putting Two Such Words Together.

It Is Well For A Man To Respect His Own Vocation Whatever It Is And To Think Himself Bound To Uphold It And To Claim For It The Respect It Deserves

My Guiding Star Always Is, Get Hold Of Portable Property.

Great Expectations

This Fine Young Man Had All The Inclination To Be A Profligate Of The First Water, And Only Lacked The One Good Trait In The Common Catalogue Of Debauched Vices - Open-handedness - To Be A Notable Vagabond. But There His Griping And Penurious Habits Stepped In; And As One Poison Will Sometimes Neutralise Another, When Wholesome Remedies Would Not Avail, So He Was Restrained By A Bad Passion From Quaffing His Full Measure Of Evil, When Virtue Might Have Sought To Hold Him Back In Vain.

But Injustice Breeds Injustice; The Fighting With Shadows And Being Defeated By Them Necessitates The Setting Up Of Substances To Combat.

Words Of Wisdom

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.

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

Have I Yet To Learn That The Hardest And Best-borne Trials Are Those Which Are Never Chronicled In Any Earthly Record, And Are Suffered Every Day!

Words Of Wisdom

Remember, To The Last, That While There Is Life There Is Hope.

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.

Veels Vithin Veels, A Prison In A Prison.

If The Law Supposes That,' Said Mr Bumble...' The Law Is An Ass - An Idiot.

'mind And Matter,' Said The Lady In The Wig, 'glide Swift Into The Vortex If Immensity. Howls The Sublime, And Softly Sleeps The Calm Ideal, In The Whispering Chambers Of Imagination.'

If Natur Has Gifted A Man With Powers Of Argeyment, A Man Has A Right To Make The Best Of 'em, And Has Not A Right To Stand On False Delicacy, And Deny That He Is So Gifted; For That Is A Turning Of His Back On Natur, A Flouting Of Her, A Slighting Of Her Precious Caskets, And A Proving Of One's Self To Be A Swine That Isn't Worth Her Scattering Pearls Before.

The Bright, Frosty Day Declined As They Walked And Spoke Together. The Sun Dipped In The River Far Behind Them, And The Old City Lay Red Before Them, As Their Walk Drew To A Close. The Moaning Water Cast Its Seaweed Duskily At Their Feet, When They Turned To Leave Its Margin; And The Rooks Hovered Above Them With Hoarse Cries, Darker Splashes In The Darkening Air.

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.

A Word In Earnest Is As Good As A Speech.

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.

"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."

Let Us Be Moral. Let Us Contemplate Existence.

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.

Never Imitate The Eccentricities Of Genius, But Toil After It In Its Truer Flights. They Are Not So Easy To Follow, But They Lead To Higher Regions.

Let Us Leave Our Old Friend In One Of Those Moments Of Unmixed Happiness Which, If We Seek Them, There Are Ever Some, To Cheer Our Transitory Existence Here. There Are Dark Shadows On The Earth, But Its Lights Are Stronger In The Contrast.

I Ate 'umble Pie With An Appetite.

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

The Secret Was Such An Old One Now, Had So Grown Into Me And Become A Part Of Myself, That I Could Not Tear It Away.

Great Expectations

"lord Bless You!" Said Mr. Omer, Resuming His Pipe, "a Man Must Take The Fat With The Lean; That's What He Must Make Up His Mind To, In This Life. "

Words Of Wisdom

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

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.

All Through It, I Have Known Myself To Be Quite Undeserving. 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- A Fire, However, Inseparable In Its Nature From Myself, Quickening Nothing, Lighting Nothing, Doing No Service, Idly Burning Away.

It Was A Murky Confusion — Here And There Blotted With A Color Like The Color Of The Smoke From Damp Fuel — Of Flying Clouds Tossed Up Into Most Remarkable Heaps, Suggesting Greater Heights In The Clouds Than There Were Depths Below Them To The Bottom Of The Deepest Hollows In The Earth, Through Which The Wild Moon Seemed To Plunge Headlong, As If, In A Dread Disturbance Of The Laws Of Nature, She Had Lost Her Way And Were Frightened.

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.

Discipline Must Be Maintained.

'i Believe, Mr. Snitchey,' Said Alfred, 'there Are Quiet Victories And Struggles, Great Sacrifices Of Self, And Noble Acts Of Heroism, In It - Even In Many Of Its Apparent Lightnesses And Contradictions - Not The Less Difficult To Achieve, Because They Have No Earthly Chronicle Or Audience - Done Every Day In Nooks And Corners, And In Little Households, And In Men's And Women's Hearts - Any One Of Which Might Reconcile The Sternest Man To Such A World, And Fill Him With Belief And Hope In It.

Everybody Said So. Far Be It From Me To Assert That What Everybody Says Must Be True. Everybody Is, Often, As Likely To Be Wrong As Right.

Words Of Wisdom

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

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

We Owed So Much To Herbert's Ever Cheerful Industry And Readiness, That I Often Wondered How I Had Conceived That Old Idea Of His Inaptitude, Until I Was One Day Enlightened By The Reflection, That Perhaps The Inaptitude Had Never Been In Him At All, But Had Been In Me.

Words Of Wisdom

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

... 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.

I Believe The Power Of Observation In Numbers Of Very Young Children To Be Quite Wonderful For Its Closeness And Accuracy. Indeed, I Think That Most Grown People Who Are Remarkable In This Respect, May With Greater Propriety Be Said Not To Have Lost The Faculty, Than To Have Acquired It; The Rather, As I Generally Observe Such Men To Retain A Certain Freshness, And Gentleness, And Capacity Of Being Pleased, Which Are Also An Inheritance They Have Preserved From Their Childhood.

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

For Though We Are Perpetually Bragging Of It As Our Safety, It Is Nothing But A Poor Fringe On The Mantle Of The Upper.

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.

Why Am I Always At War With Myself? Why Have I Told, As If Upon Compulsion, What I Knew All Along I Ought To Have Withheld? Why Am I Making A Friend Of This Woman Beside Me, In Spite Of The Whispers Against Her That I Hear In My Heart?

Circumstances Beyond My Individual Control.

Express Yourself

In Particular, There Was A Butler In A Blue Coat And Bright Buttons, Who Gave Quite A Winey Flavour To The Table Beer; He Poured It Out So Superbly.

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.

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.

"mine Ain't A Selfish Affection, You Know," Said Mr. Toots, In The Confidence Engendered By His Having Been A Witness Of The Captain's Tenderness. "it's The Sort Of Thing With Me, Captain Gills, That If I Could Be Run Over - Or - Or Trampled Upon - Or - Or Thrown Off A Very High Place -or Anything Of That Sort - For Miss Dombey's Sake, It Would Be The Most Delightful Thing That Could Happen To Me."

I Wear The Chain I Forged In Life....i Made It Link By Link, And Yard By Yard; I Girded It On Of My Own Free Will, And Of My Own Free Will I Wore It.

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.

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

Words Of Wisdom

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

Château And Hut, Stone Face And Dangling Figure, The Red Stain On The Stone Floor, And The Pure Water In The Village Well-thousands Of Acres Of Land-a Whole Province Of France-all France Itself-lay Under The Night Sky, Concentrated Into A Faint Hairbreadth Line. So Does A Whole World, With All Its Greatnesses And Littlenesses, Lie In A Twinkling Star.

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

I Don't Remember Forms Or Faces Now, But I Know The Girl Was Beautiful. I Know She Was; For In The Bright Moonlight Nights, When I Start From My Sleep, And All Is Quiet About Me, I See, Standing Still And Motionless In One Corner Of This Cell, A Slight And Wasted Figure With Long Black Hair, Which Streaming Down Her Back, Stirs With No Earthly Wind, And Eyes That Fix Their Gaze On Me, And Never Wink Or Close.

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.

I Mean A Man Whose Hopes And Aims May Sometimes Lie (as Most Men's Sometimes Do, I Dare Say) Above The Ordinary Level, But To Whom The Ordinary Level Will Be High Enough After All If It Should Prove To Be A Way Of Usefulness And Good Service Leading To No Other. All Generous Spirits Are Ambitious, I Suppose, But The Ambition That Calmly Trusts Itself To Such A Road, Instead Of Spasmodically Trying To Fly Over It, Is Of The Kind I Care For.

He Was The Meekest Of His Sex, The Mildest Of Little Men. He Sidled In And Out Of A Room, To Take Up The Less Space. He Walked As Softly As The Ghost In Hamlet, And More Slowly. He Carried His Head On One Side, Partly In Modest Depreciation Of Himself, Partly In Modest Propitiation Of Everybody Else.

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

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.

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

There Is Nothing In The World So Irresistibly Contagious As Laughter And Good Humor.

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

A Man Is Lucky If He Is The First Love Of A Woman. A Woman Is Lucky If She Is The Last Love Of A Man.

At Last, However, He Began To Think -- As You Or I Would Have Thought At First; For It Is Always The Person Not In The Predicament Who Knows What Ought To Have Been Done In It, And Would Unquestionably Have Done It Too . . .

Words Of Wisdom

It Is A Pleasant Thing To Reflect Upon, And Furnishes A Complete Answer To Those Who Contend For The Gradual Degeneration Of The Human Species, That Every Baby Born Into The World Is A Finer One Than The Last.

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

Words Of Wisdom

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

In Life I Was Your Partner, Jacob Marley.

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.

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

You Speak So Feelingly And So Manfully, Charles Darnay

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

Words Of Wisdom

Poetry Makes Life What Lights And Music Do The Stage.

Man Cannot Really Improve Himself Without Improving Others.

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!

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