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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.

-Charles Dickens

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If Ever Household Affections

Charles Dickens

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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.

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And Yet I Love Him. I Love Him So Much And So Dearly, That When I Sometimes Think My Life May Be But A Weary One, I Am Proud Of It And Glad Of It. I Am Proud And Glad To Suffer Something For Him, Even Though It Is Of No Service To Him, And He Will Never Know Of It Or Care For It.

Send Forth The Child And Childish Man Together, And Blush For The Pride That Libels Our Own Old Happy State, And Gives Its Title To An Ugly And Distorted Image.

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.

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

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.

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

Friendship? Yes Please.

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

I Admire Machinery As Much Is Any Man, And Am As Thankful To It As Any Man Can Be For What It Does For Us. But It Will Never Be A Substitute For The Face Of A Man, With His Soul In It, Encouraging Another Man To Be Brave And True.

Heaven Suits The Back To The Burden.

Oh! Captive, Bound, And Double-ironed," Cried The Phantom, "not To Know, That Ages Of Incessant Labour, By Immortal Creatures, For This Earth Must Pass Into Eternity Before The Good Of Which It Is Susceptible Is All Developed. Not To Know That Any Christian Spirit Working Kindly In Its Little Sphere, Whatever It May Be, Will Find Its Mortal Life Too Short For Its Vast Means Of Usefulness. Not To Know That No Space Of Regret Can Make Amends For One Life's Opportunity Misused!

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.

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

How Many Young Men, In All Previous Times Of Unprecedented Steadiness, Had Turned Suddenly Wild And Wicked For The Same Reason, And, In An Ecstasy Of Unrequited Love, Taken To Wrench Off Door-knockers, And Invert The Boxes Of Rheumatic Watchmen!

Unrequited Love

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

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

To Conceal Anything From Those To Whom I Am Attached, Is Not In My Nature. I Can Never Close My Lips Where I Have Opened My Heart.

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.

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.

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

Please, Sir, I Want Some More.

...and To-morrow Looked In My Face More Steadily Than I Could Look At It

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

Vengeance And Retribution Require A Long Time; It Is The Rule.

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

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

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.

Dickens Writes That An Event, "began To Be Forgotten, As Most Affairs Are, When Wonder, Having No Fresh Food To Support It, Dies Away Of Itself.

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.

"well, Well!" Said My Aunt. "i Only Ask. I Don't Depreciate Her. Poor Little Couple! And So You Think You Were Formed For One Another, And Are To Go Through A Party-supper-table Kind Of Life, Like Two Pretty Pieces Of Confectionery, Do You, Trot?"

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

Christmas Carol

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!

To A Young Heart Everything Is Fun.

Once A Gentleman, And Always A Gentleman.

Words Of Wisdom

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.

When A Man Bleeds Inwardly, It Is A Dangerous Thing For Himself; But When He Laughs Inwardly, It Bodes No Good To Other People.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 . . .

I Took A Good Deal O' Pains With His Eddication, Sir; Let Him Run In The Streets When He Was Very Young, And Shift For Hisself. It's The Only Way To Make A Boy Sharp, Sir.

A New Heart For A New Year, Always!

A Very Little Key Will Open A Very Heavy Door.

Perhaps Second-hand Cares, Like Second-hand Clothes, Come Easily Off And On.

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

Probably Every New And Eagerly Expected Garment Ever Put On Since Clothes Came In, Fell A Trifle Short Of The Wearer's Expectation.

There Is Not A Manufacturer Or Tradesman In Existence, Who Would Not Employ A Man Who Takes A Reasonable Degree Of Pride In The Appearance Of Himself And Those About Him, In Preference To A Sullen, Slovenly Fellow, Who Works Doggedly On, Regardless Of His Own Clothing And That Of His Wife And Children, And Seeming To Take Pleasure Or Pride In Nothing.

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

Guarantees That

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

There Is Probably A Smell Of Roasted Chestnuts And Other Good Comfortable Things All The Time, For We Are Telling Winter Stories - Ghost Stories, Or More Shame For Us - Round The Christmas Fire; And We Have Never Stirred, Except To Draw A Little Nearer To It.

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

The New Year, Like An Infant Heir To The Whole World, Was Waited For, With Welcomes, Presents, And Rejoicings.

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

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

... 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.

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

Words Of Wisdom

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

It Opens The Lungs, Washes The Countenance, Exercises The Eyes, And Softens Down The Temper; So Cry 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.

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?

There Are Strings In The Human Heart That Had Better Not Be Vibrated.

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

Subdue Your Appetites, My Dears, And You've Conquered Human Nature .

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

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

Be Natural My Children. For The Writer That Is Natural Has Fulfilled All The Rules Of Art.

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.

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.

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.

In Every Life, No Matter How Full Or Empty Ones Purse, There Is Tragedy. It Is The One Promise Life Always Fulfills. Thus, Happiness Is A Gift, And The Trick Is Not To Expect It, But To Delight In It When It Comes, And To Add To Other Peoples Store Of It.

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

It Is A Long Time,' Repeated His Wife; 'and When Is It Not A Long Time? Vengeance And Retribution Require A Long Time; It Is The Rule.' 'it Does Not Take A Long Time To Strike A Man With Lightning,' Said Defarge. 'how Long,' Demanded Madame, Composedly, 'does It Take To Make And Store The Lightning? Tell Me?

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

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

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

The Expression Of A Man's Face Is Commonly A Help To His Thoughts, Or Glossary On His Speech; But The Countenance Of Newman Noggs, In His Ordinary Moods, Was A Problem Which No Stretch Of Ingenuity Could Solve.

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.

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

Words Of Wisdom

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

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

I'm Awful Dull, But I Hope I've Beat Out Something Nigh The Rights Of This At Last. And So God Bless You, Dear Old Pip, Old Chap, God Bless You!

Words Of Wisdom

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.

... 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.

Novelties Please Less Than They Impress.

I Believe The Spreading Of Catholicism To Be The Most Horrible Means Of Political And Social Degradation Left In The World.

"some Persons Hold," He Pursued, Still Hesitating, "that There Is A Wisdom Of The Head, And That There Is A Wisdom Of The Heart..."

Words Of Wisdom

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

The Clouds Were Flying Fast, The Wind Was Coming Up In Gusts, Banging Some Neighboring Shutters That Had Broken Loose, Twirling The Rusty Chimney-cowls And Weathercocks, And Rushing Round And Round A Confined Adjacent Churchyard As If It Had A Mind To Blow The Dead Citizens Out Of Their Graves. The Low Thunder, Muttering In All Quarters Of The Sky At Once, Seemed To Threaten Vengeance For This Attempted Desecration, And To Mutter, "let Them Rest! Let Them Rest!

I Confess I Have Yet To Learn That A Lesson Of The Purest Good May Not Be Drawn From The Vilest Evil.

There Is Prodigious Strength In Sorrow And Despair.

I Have Been Very Fortunate In Worldly Matters; Many Men Have Worked Much Harder, And Not Succeeded Half So Well; But I Never Could Have Done What I Have Done, Without The Habits Of Punctuality, Order, And Diligence, Without The Determination To Concentrate Myself On One Object At A Time, No Matter How Quickly Its Successor Should Come Upon Its Heels, Which I Then Formed.

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

Battledore And Shuttlecock's A Wery Good Game, Vhen You An't The Shuttlecock And Two Lawyers The Battledores, In Which Case It Gets Too Exciting To Be Pleasant.

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

There Is Nothing--no, Nothing--innocent Or Good, That Dies And Is Forgotten; Let Us Hold To That Faith Or None. An Infant, A Prattling Child, Dying In The Cradle, Will Live Again In The Better Thoughts Of Those That Loved It, And Play Its Part Through Them In The Redeeming Actions Of The World, Though Its Body Be Burnt To Ashes Or Drowned In The Deep Sea.

Virtue Shows Quite As Well In Rags And Patches As She Does In Purple And Fine Linen.

Mr Lorry Asks The Witness Questions: Ever Been Kicked? Might Have Been. Frequently? No. Ever Kicked Down Stairs? Decidedly Not; Once Received A Kick At The Top Of A Staircase, And Fell Down Stairs Of His Own Accord.

The American Woman Is A Monstrosity.

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

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.

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

Words Of Wisdom

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

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.

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

And What About The Cash, My Existence's Jewel?

From The Days When It Was Always Summer In Eden, To These Days When It Is Mostly Winter In Fallen Latitudes, The World Of A Man Has Invariably Gone One Way Charles Darnay's Way The Way Of The Love Of A Woman

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

Minds, Like Bodies, Will Often Fall Into A Pimpled, Ill-conditioned State From Mere Excess Of Comfort.

"there Are Strings," Said Mr. Tappertit, Flourishing His Bread-and-cheese Knife In The Air, "in The Human Heart That Had Better Not Be Wibrated..."

The Wind's In The East. . . . I Am Always Conscious Of An Uncomfortable Sensation Now And Then When The Wind Is Blowing In The East.

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

Houses Were Knocked Down; Streets Broken Through And Stopped; Deep Pits And Trenches Dug In The Ground; Enormous Heaps Of Earth And Clay Thrown Up; Buildings That Were Undermined And Shaking, Propped By Great Beams Of Wood. In Short, The Yet Unfinished And Unopened Railroad Was In Progress.

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

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.

You Have Been The Last Dream Of My Soul.

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.

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.

Spring Is The Time Of Year When It Is Summer In The Sun And Winter In The Shade.

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.

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.

"you See," Said Mr. Toots, "what I Wanted In A Wife Was - In Short, Was Sense. Money, Feeder, I Had. Sense I - I Had Not, Particularly."

That, They Never Could Lay Their Heads Upon Their Pillows; That, They Never Could Tolerate The Idea Of Their Wives Laying Their Heads Upon Their Pillows; That, They Never Could Endure The Notion Of Their Children Laying Their Heads Upon Their Pillows; In Short, That There Never More Could Be, For Them Or Theirs, Any Laying Of Heads Upon Pillows At All, Unless The Prisoner's Head Was Taken Off.

New Thoughts And Hopes Were Whirling Through My Mind, And All The Colours Of My Life Were Changing.

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

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.

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.

Discipline Must Be Maintained.

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

Cleanliness Is Next To Godliness, And Some People Do The Same By Their Religion.

You Hear, Eugene?' Said Lightwood Over His Shoulder. 'you Are Deeply Interested In Lime.' 'without Lime,' Returned That Unmoved Barrister At Law, 'my Existence Would Be Unilluminated By A Ray Of Hope.

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

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

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.

A Loving Heart Is The Truest Wisdom.

Have A Heart That Never Hardens

I Must Be Taken As I Have Been Made. The Success Is Not Mine, The Failure Is Not Mine, But The Two Together Make Me.

An Inebriated Elderly Gentleman In The Last Depths Of Shabbiness... Played The Calm And Virtuous Old Men.

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

Happiness Is A Gift And The Trick Is Not To Expect It, But To Delight In It When It Comes.

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!

Renunciation Remains Sorrow, Though A Sorrow Borne Willingly.

Surely There Had Been No Figure Leaning On The Back Of His Chair; No Face Looking Over It. It Is Certain That No Gliding Footstep Touched The Floor, As He Lifted Up His Head, With A Start, And Spoke. And Yet There Was No Mirror In The Room On Whose Surface His Own Form Could Have Cast Its Shadow For A Moment; And, Something Had Passed Darkly And Gone!

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.

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.

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!

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

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

Words Of Wisdom

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.

There Was A Frosty Rime Upon The Trees, Which, In The Faint Light Of The Clouded Moon, Hung Upon The Smaller Branches Like Dead Garlands. Withered Leaves Crackled And Snapped Beneath His Feet, As He Crept Softly On Towards The House. The Desolation Of A Winter Night Sat Brooding On The Earth, And In The Sky. But, The Red Light Came Cheerily Towards Him From The Windows; Figures Passed And Repassed There; And The Hum And Murmur Of Voices Greeted His Ear Sweetly.

I Only Ask To Be Free. The Butterflies Are Free.

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

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

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

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.

You Fear The World Too Much,' She Answered Gently. 'all Your Other Hopes Have Merged Into The Hope Of Being Beyond The Chance Of Its Sordid Reproach. I Have Seen Your Nobler Aspirations Fall Off, One By One, Until The Master Passion, Gain, Engrosses You. Have I Not?

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.

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.

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.

Philosophers Are Only Men In Armor After All.

Good Never Come Of Such Evil, A Happier End Was Not In Nature To So Unhappy A Beginning.

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

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.

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

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

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!

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!

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!

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.

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?

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

There Is Something In Sickness That Breaks Down The Pride Of Manhood.

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.

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

He Would Make A Lovely Corpse.

[she Wasn't] A Logically Reasoning Woman, But God Is Good, And Hearts May Count In Heaven As High As Heads.

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.

I Am In The Theatrical Profession Myself, My Wife Is In The Theatrical Profession, My Children Are In The Theatrical Profession.i Had A Dog That Lived And Died In It From A Puppy; And My Chaise-pony Goes On, In Timour The Tartar.

All Partings Foreshadow The Great Final One.

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.

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.

There's A Young Man Hid With Me, In Comparison With Which Young Man I Am A Angel. That Young Man Hears The Words I Speak. That Young Man Has A Secret Way Pecooliar To Himself, Of Getting At A Boy, And At His Heart, And At His Liver.

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.

There Are People Enough To Tread Upon Me In My Lowly State, Without My Doing Outrage To Their Feelings By Possessing Learning. Learning Ain't For Me. A Person Like Myself Had Better Not Aspire. If He Is To Get On In Life, He Must Get On 'umbly, Master Copperfield!

... When The Locked Door Opens, And There Comes In A Young Woman, Deadly Pale, And With Long Fair Hair, Who Glides To The Fire, And Sits Down In The Chair We Have Left There, Wringing Her Hands.

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.

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.

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.

When I Speak Of Home, I Speak Of The Place Where In Default Of A Better--those I Love Are Gathered Together; And If That Place Where A Gypsy's Tent, Or A Barn, I Should Call It By The Same Good Name Notwithstanding.

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 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

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