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It Has Always Been My Opinion Since I First Possessed Such A Thing As An Opinion, That The Man Who Knows Only One Subject Is Next Tiresome To The Man Who Knows No Subject. Therefore, In The Course Of My Life I Have Taught Myself Whatever I Could, And Although I Am Not An Educated Man, I Am Able, I Am Thankful To Say, To Have An Intelligent Interest In Most Things.

-Charles Dickens

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It Has Always Been

Charles Dickens

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It Has Always Been My Opinion Since I First Possessed Such A Thing As An Opinion, That The Man Who Knows Only One Subject Is Next Tiresome To The Man Who Knows No Subject. Therefore, In The Course Of My Life I Have Taught Myself Whatever I Could, And Although I Am Not An Educated Man, I Am Able, I Am Thankful To Say, To Have An Intelligent Interest In Most Things.

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Words Of Wisdom

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It Is An Exquisite And Beautiful Thing In Our Nature, That, When The Heart Is Touched And Softened By Some Tranquil Happiness Or Affectionate Feeling, The Memory Of The Dead Comes Over It Most Powerfully And Irresistibly. It Would Seem Almost As Though Our Better Thoughts And Sympathies Were Charms, In Virtue Of Which The Soul Is Enabled To Hold Some Vague And Mysterious Intercourse With The Spirits Of Those Whom We Loved In Life. Alas! How Often And How Long May These Patient Angels Hover Around Us, Watching For The Spell Which Is So Soon Forgotten!

Not Knowing How He Lost Himself, Or How He Recovered Himself, He May Never Feel Certain Of Not Losing Himself Again.

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

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

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.

My Meaning Is, That No Man Can Expect His Children To Respect What He Degrades.

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

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.

Home Is A Name, A Word, It Is A Strong One; Stronger Than Magician Ever Spoke, Or Spirit Ever Answered To, In The Strongest Conjuration.

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.

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 Wasn't The Wine," Murmured Mr. Snodgrass, In A Broken Voice. "it Was The Salmon."

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.

"i Know Quite Enough Of Myself," Said Bella, With A Charming Air Of Being Inclined To Give Herself Up As A Bad Job, "and I Don't Improve Upon Acquaintance..."

Mrs. Lammle's Manner Changed Under The Poor Silly Girl's Embraces, And She Turned Extremely Pale: Directing One Appealing Look, First To Mrs. Boffin, And Then To Mr. Boffin. Both Understood Her Instantly, With A More Delicate Subtlety Than Much Better Educated People, Whose Perception Came Less Directly From The Heart, Could Have Brought To Bear Upon The Case.

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

Veels Vithin Veels, A Prison In A Prison.

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

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.

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.

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

The Heavy Rain Beat Down The Tender Branches Of Vine And Jessamine, And Trampled On Them In Its Fury; And When The Lightning Gleamed, It Showed The Tearful Leaves Shivering And Cowering Together At The Window, And Tapping At It Urgently, As If Beseeching To Be Sheltered From The Dismal Night.

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.

Pale And Pinched-up Faces Hovered About The Windows Where Was Tempting Food; Hungry Eyes Wandered Over The Profusion Guarded By One Thin Sheet Of Brittle Glass--an Iron Wall To Them; Half-naked Shivering Figures Stopped To Gaze At Chinese Shawls And Golden Stuffs Of India.

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

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.

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

Charity Begins At Home, And Justice Begins Next Door.

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.

"we Thought That, Perhaps," Said I, Hesitating, "it Is Right To Begin With The Obligations Of Home, Sir; And That, Perhaps, While Those Are Overlooked And Neglected, No Other Duties Can Possibly Be Substituted For Them."

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

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

Let Us Be Moral. Let Us Contemplate Existence.

Morning Drew On Apace. The Air Became More Sharp And Piercing, As Its First Dull Hue: The Death Of Night, Rather Than The Birth Of Day: Glimmered Faintly In The Sky. The Objects Which Had Looked Dim And Terrible In The Darkness, Grew More And More Defined, And Gradually Resolved Into Their Familiar Shapes. The Rain Came Down, Thick And Fast; And Pattered, Noisily, Among The Leafless Bushes.

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.

Great Men Are Seldom Over-scrupulous In The Arrangement Of Their Attire.

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

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.

I Will Die Here Where I Have Walked. And I Will Walk Here, Though I Am In My Grave. I Will Walk Here Until The Pride Of This House Is Humbled.

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.

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

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

Most Men Are Individuals No Longer So Far As Their Business, Its Activities, Or Its Moralities Are Concerned. They Are Not Units But Fractions.

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.

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Surprises, Like Misfortunes, Seldom Come Alone.

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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.

You Speak So Feelingly And So Manfully, Charles Darnay

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

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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.

Flora, Always Tall, Had Grown To Be Very Broad Too, And Short Of Breath; But That Was Not Much. Flora, Whom He Had Left A Lily, Had Become A Peony; But That Was Not Much. Flora, Who Had Seemed Enchanting In All She Said And Thought, Was Diffuse And Silly. That Was Much. Flora, Who Had Been Spoiled And Artless Long Ago, Was Determined To Be Spoiled And Artless Now. That Was A Fatal Blow.

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

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.

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!

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 Subject At A Time.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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

... 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.

But The Sun Itself, However Beneficent, Generally, Was Less Kind To Coketown Than Hard Frost, And Rarely Looked Intently Into Any Of Its Closer Regions Without Engendering More Death Than Life. So Does The Eye Of Heaven Itself Become An Evil Eye, When Incapable Or Sordid Hands Are Interposed Between It And The Thing It Looks Upon To Bless.

Philosophers Are Only Men In Armor After All.

We All Have Some Experience Of A Feeling, That Comes Over Us Occasionally, Of What We Are Saying And Doing Having Been Said And Done Before, In A Remote Time - Of Our Having Been Surrounded, Dim Ages Ago, By The Same Faces, Objects, And Circumstances.

On The Eve Of Long Voyages Or An Absence Of Many Years, Friends Who Are Tenderly Attached Will Seperate With The Usual Look, The Usual Pressure Of The Hand, Planning One Final Interview For The Morrow, While Each Well Knows That It Is But A Poor Feint To Save The Pain Of Uttering That One Word, And The Meeting Will Never Be. Should Possibilities Be Worse To Bear Than Certainties?

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

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

Other Sound Than The Owl's Voice There Was None, Save The Falling Of A Fountain Into Its Stone Basin; For, It Was One Of Those Dark Nights That Hold Their Breath By The Hour Together, And Then Heave A Long Low Sigh, And Hold Their Breath Again.

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!

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

The Great Grindstone, Earth, Had Turned When Mr. Lorry Looked Out Again, And The Sun Was Red On The Courtyard. But, The Lesser Grindstone Stood Alone There In The Calm Morning Air, With Red Upon It That The Sun Had Never Give, And Would Never Take Away.

It's Not Put Into His Head To Be Buried. It's Put Into His Head To Be Made Useful. You Hold Your Life On The Condition That To The Last You Shall Struggle Hard For It. Every Man Holds A Discovery On The Same Terms.

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

We Are So Very 'umble.

Strong Mental Agitation And Disturbance Was No Novelty To Him, Even Before His Late Sufferings. It Never Is, To Obstinate And Sullen Natures; For They Struggle Hard To Be Such.

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

Words Of Wisdom

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.

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.

I Distress You; I Draw Fast To An End.

"it's Nothing," Returned Mrs Chick. "it's Merely Change Of Weather. We Must Expect Change."

Words Of Wisdom

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.

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

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

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!

A Mob Is Usually A Creature Of Very Mysterious Existence, Particularly In A Large City. Where It Comes From, Or Whither It Goes, Few Men Can Tell. Assembling And Dispersing With Equal Suddenness, It Is As Difficult To Follow To Its Various Sources As The Sea Itself; Nor Does The Parallel Stop Here, For The Ocean Is Not More Fickle And Uncertain, More Terrible When Roused, More Unreasonable Or More Cruel.

For The Night-wind Has A Dismal Trick Of Wandering Round And Round A Building Of That Sort, And Moaning As It Goes; And Of Trying, With Its Unseen Hand, The Windows And The Doors; And Seeking Out Some Crevices By Which To Enter.

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

Constancy In Love Is A Good Thing; But It Means Nothing, And Is Nothing, Without Constancy In Every Kind Of Effort.

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.

Money And Goods Are Certainly The Best Of References.

"and When You Had Made Sure Of The Poor Little Fool," Said My Aunt - "god Forgive Me That I Should Call Her So, And She Gone Where You Won't Go In A Hurry - Because You Had Not Done Wrong Enough To Her And Hers, You Must Begin To Train Her, Must You? Begin To Break Her, Like A Poor Caged Bird, And Wear Her Deluded Life Away, In Teaching Her To Sing Your Notes?"

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

Nothing Is Discovered Without God's Intention And Assistance, And I Suppose Every New Knowledge Of His Works That Is Conceded To Man To Be Distinctly A Revelation By Which Men Are To Guide Themselves.

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.

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

‎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.

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

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

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.

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

I Stole Her Heart Away And Put Ice In Its Place.

It Was A Very Aged, Ghostly Place; The Church Had Been Built Many Hundreds Of Years Ago, And Had Once Had A Convent Or Monastery Attached; For Arches In Ruins, Remains Of Oriel Windows, And Fragments Of Blackened Walls, Were Yet Standing-, While Other Portions Of The Old Building, Which Had Crumbled Away And Fallen Down, Were Mingled With The Churchyard Earth And Overgrown With Grass, As If They Too Claimed A Burying-place And Sought To Mix Their Ashes With The Dust Of Men.

"the Twins No Longer Derive Their Sustenance From Nature's Founts - In Short," Said Mr. Micawber, In One Of His Bursts Of Confidence, "they Are Weaned..."

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.

Poetry Makes Life What Lights And Music Do The Stage.

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

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

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.

I Only Know That It Was, And Ceased To Be; And That I Have Written, And There I Leave It.

Although I Am An Old Man, Night Is Generally My Time For Walking.

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.

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!

The Day Was Made For Laziness, And Lying On One's Back In Green Places, And Staring At The Sky Till Its Brightness Forced One To Shut One's Eyes And Go To Sleep.

Quadruped Lions Are Said To Be Savage, Only When They Are Hungry; Biped Lions Are Rarely Sulky Longer Than When Their Appetite For Distinction Remains Unappeased.

Words Of Wisdom

... 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.

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!

What Greater Gift Than The Love Of A Cat.

They Are So Filthy And Bestial That No Honest Man Would Admit One Into His House For A Water-closet Doormat.

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

Joe Gave Me Some More Gravy.

This Was My Only And My Constant Comfort. When I Think Of It, The Picture Always Rises In My Mind, Of A Summer Evening, The Boys At Play In The Churchyard, And I Sitting On My Bed, Reading As If For Life.

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

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.

Rich Folks May Ride On Camels, But It Ain't So Easy For 'em To See Out Of A Needle's Eye.

Never Sign A Valentine With Your Own Name.

We Need Never Be Ashamed Of Our Tears.

It Is The Fate Of Most Men Who Mingle With The World, And Attain Even The Prime Of Life, To Make Many Real Friends, And Lose Them In The Course Of Nature. It Is The Fate Of All Authors Or Chroniclers To Create Imaginary Friends, And Lose Them In The Course Of Art. Nor Is This The Full Extent Of Their Misfortunes; For They Are Required To Furnish An Account Of Them Besides.

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

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.

The Streets Looked Small, Of Course. The Streets That We Have Only Seen As Children Always Do I Believe When We Go Back To Them

I Have Known A Vast Quantity Of Nonsense Talked About Bad Men Not Looking You In The Face. Don't Trust That Conventional Idea. Dishonesty Will Stare Honesty Out Of Countenance Any Day In The Week, If There Is Anything To Be Got By It.

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

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.

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!

Accidents Will Occur In The Best-regulated Families; And In Families Not Regulated By That Pervading Influence Which Sanctifies While It Enhances... In Short, By The Influence Of Woman, In The Lofty Character Of Wife, They May Be Expected With Confidence, And Must Be Borne With Philosophy.

Remembrance, Like A Candle, Burns Brightest At Christmastime.

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

The Sight Of Me Is Good For Sore Eyes

He Describes It As A Large Apartment, With A Red Brick Floor And A Capacious Chimney; The Ceiling Garnished With Hams, Sides Of Bacon, And Ropes Of Onions.

Lawyers Are Shy Of Meddling With The Law On Their Own Account: Knowing It To Be An Edged Tool Of Uncertain Application, Very Expensive In The Working, And Rather Remarkable For Its Properties Of Close Shaving Than For Its Always Shaving The Right Person.

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

When They Took A Young Man Into Tellson's London House, They Hid Him Somewhere Till He Was Old. They Kept Him In A Dark Place, Like A Cheese, Until He Had The Full Tellson Flavour And Blue-mould Upon Him. Then Only Was He Permitted To Be Seen, Spectacularly Poring Over Large Books, And Casting His Breeches And Gaiters Into The General Weight Of The Establishment.

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

Many Merry Christmases, Many Happy New Years. Unbroken Friendships, Great Accumulations Of Cheerful Recollections And Affections On Earth, And Heaven For Us All.

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

Heaven Suits The Back To The Burden.

Please, Sir, I Want Some More.

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

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

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!

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

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

Great Expectations

There Are Dark Shadows On The Earth, But Its Lights Are Stronger In The Contrast. Some Men, Like Bats Or Owls, Have Better Eyes For The Darkness Than For The Light. We, Who Have No Such Optical Powers, Are Better Pleased To Take Our Last Parting Look At The Visionary Companions Of Many Solitary Hours, When The Brief Sunshine Of The World Is Blazing Full Upon Them.

Do Not Close Your Heart Against All My Efforts To Help You.

No One Is Useless In This World Who Lightens The Burden Of It To Anyone Else.

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

Without Strong Affection, And Humanity Of Heart, And Gratitude To That Being Whose Code Is Mercy, And Whose Great Attribute Is Benevolence To All Things That Breathe, True Happiness Can Never Be Attained.

"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?"

Women Can Always Put Things In Fewest Words. Except When It's Blowing Up; And Then They Lengthens It Out.

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.

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

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 .

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

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

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.

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

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.

There Are Dark Shadows On The Earth, But Its Lights Are Stronger In The Contrast.

Heaped On The Floor Were Turkeys, Geese, Game, Poultry, Brawn, Great Joints Of Meat, Sucking Pigs, Long Wreaths Of Sausages, Mince-pies, Plum-puddings, Bartrels Of Oysters, Re-hot Chestnuts, Cherry-cheeked Apples, Juicy Oranges, Luscious Pears, Immense Twelfth-cakes, And Seething Bowls Of Punch That Made The Chamber Dim With Their Delicious Steam.

Money, Says The Proverb, Makes Money. When You Have Got A Little, It Is Often Easy To Get More.

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

The Forces That Affect Our Lives, The Influences That Mold And Shape Us, Are Often Like Whispers In A Different Room, Teasingly Indistinct, Apprehended Only With Difficulty.

But, Tears Were Not The Things To Find Their Way To Mr. Bumble's Soul; His Heart Was Waterproof.

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.

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

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

The Coffee Was Boiling Over A Charcoal Fire, And Large Slices Of Bread And Butter Were Piled One Upon The Other Like Deals In A Lumber Yard.

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

The Whole Difference Between Construction And Creation Is Exactly This: That A Thing Constructed Can Only Be Loved After It Is Constructed; But A Thing Created Is Loved Before It Exists.

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

If There Were No Bad People, There Would Be No Good Lawyers.

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

It Would Have Been Cruel In Miss Havisham, Horribly Cruel, To Practise On The Susceptibility Of A Poor Boy, And To Torture Me Through All These Years With A Vain Hope And An Idle Pursuit, If She Had Reflected On The Gravity Of What She Did. But I Think She Did Not. I Think That In The Endurance Of Her Own Trial, She Forgot Mine, Estella.

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.

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 . . .

"people Can't Die, Along The Coast," Said Mr. Peggotty, "except When The Tide's Pretty Nigh Out. They Can't Be Born, Unless It's Pretty Nigh In - Not Properly Born, Till Flood. He's A Going Out With The Tide. It's Ebb At Half-arter Three, Slack Water Half An Hour. If He Lives Till It Turns, He'll Hold His Own Till Past The Flood, And Go Out With The Next Tide."

In Life I Was Your Partner, Jacob Marley.

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.

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.

I Was A Blacksmith's Boy But Yesterday; I Am - What Shall I Say I Am Today?

Gold, For The Instant, Lost Its Luster In His Eyes, For There Were Countless Treasures Of The Heart Which It Could Never Purchase

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

Words Of Wisdom

There 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

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.

There Either Is Or Is Not, That’s The Way Things Are. The Colour Of The Day. The Way It Felt To Be A Child. The Saltwater On Your Sunburnt Legs. Sometimes The Water Is Yellow, Sometimes It’s Red. But What Colour It May Be In Memory, Depends On The Day. I’m Not Going To Tell You The Story The Way It Happened. I’m Going To Tell It The Way I Remember It.

One Thing About This Face Was Very Strange And Startling. You Could Not Look Upon It In Its Most Cheerful Mood Without Feeling That It Had Some Extraordinary Capacity Of Expressing Terror. It Was Not On The Surface. It Was In No One Feature That It Lingered. You Could Not Take The Eyes Or Mouth, Or Lines Upon The Cheek, And Say, If This Or That Were Otherwise, It Would Not Be So. Yet There It Always Lurked-something For Ever Dimly Seen, But Ever There, And Never Absent For A Moment.

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.

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.

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