Drive him fast to his tomb. This, from Jacques.
And can it be that in a world so full and busy the loss of one creature makes a void so wide and deep that nothing but the width and depth of eternity can fill it up!
There is a Sunday conscience as well as a Sunday coat; and those who make religion a secondary concern put the coat and conscience carefully by to put on only once a week.
It is a most miserable thing to feel ashamed of home.
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.
How beautiful you are! You are more beautiful in anger than in repose. I don’t ask you for your love; give me yourself and your hatred; give me yourself and that pretty rage; give me yourself and that enchanting scorn; it will be enough for me.
There are very few moments in a man’s existence when he experiences so much ludicrous distress, or meets with so little charitable commiseration, as when he is in pursuit of his own hat.
I only know that it was, and ceased to be; and that I have written, and there I leave it.
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.
People like us don’t go out at night cause people like them see us for what we are.
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.
I could settle down into a state of equable low spirits, and resign myself to coffee.
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.
I verily believe that her not remembering and not minding in the least, made me cry again, inwardly – and that is the sharpest crying of all.
One should never be ashamed to cry. Tears are rain on the dust of earth.
Break their hearts my pride and hope, break their hearts and have no mercy. -Miss Havisham.
A multitude of people and yet solitude.
All other swindlers upon earth are nothing to the self-swindlers, and with such pretences did I cheat myself.
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.