Charles Dickens ( 10 of 80 )
Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of Earth, read more
Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of Earth, overlaying our hard hearts.
Oh, a dainty plant is the ivy green,
That creepeth o'er ruins old!
Of right choice food read more
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.
A man who could build a church, as one may say, by squinting at a
sheet of paper.
A man who could build a church, as one may say, by squinting at a
sheet of paper.
When I got up to the Peacock--where I found everybody drinking
hot punch in self-preservation.
When I got up to the Peacock--where I found everybody drinking
hot punch in self-preservation.
There are people in the world so hungry, that God cannot appear
to them except in the form of read more
There are people in the world so hungry, that God cannot appear
to them except in the form of bread.
The most important human endeavor is the striving for morality in
our actions. Our inner balance and even our read more
The most important human endeavor is the striving for morality in
our actions. Our inner balance and even our very existence
depend on it. Only morality in our actions can give beauty and
dignity to life.
"There are strings," said Mr. Tappertit, ". . . in the human heart
that had better not be wibrated."
"There are strings," said Mr. Tappertit, ". . . in the human heart
that had better not be wibrated."
Mrs. Crupp had indignantly assured him that there wasn't room to
swing a cat there; but as Mr. Dick read more
Mrs. Crupp had indignantly assured him that there wasn't room to
swing a cat there; but as Mr. Dick justly observed to me, sitting
down on the foot of the bed, nursing his leg, "You know,
Trotwood, I don't want to swing a cat. I never do swing a cat.
Therefore what does that signify to me?"
"It wasn't the wine," murmured Mr. Snodgrass in a broken voice,
"it was the salmon."
"It wasn't the wine," murmured Mr. Snodgrass in a broken voice,
"it was the salmon."
A friendly swarry, consisting of a boiled leg of mutton with the
usual trimmings.
A friendly swarry, consisting of a boiled leg of mutton with the
usual trimmings.
