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The persons on whom I have bestowed my dearest love lie deep in their graves; but, although the happiness and delight of my life lie buried there too, I have not made a coffin of my heart, and sealed it up for ever on my best affections. Deep affliction has only made them stronger; it ought, I think, for it should refine our nature.
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My hair stands on end at the cost and charges of these boys. Why was I ever a father! Why was my father ever a father!
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All partings foreshadow the great final one.
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Nobody near me here, but rats, and they are fine stealthy secret fellows.
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Dignity, and even holiness too, sometimes, are more questions of coat and waistcoat than some people imagine.
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I made a compact with myself that in my person literature should stand by itself, of itself, and for itself.
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God bless us every one! said Tiny Tim, the last of all.
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And numerous indeed are the hearts to which Christmas brings a brief season of happiness and enjoyment.
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I have been bent and broken, but - I hope - into a better shape.
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He would make a lovely corpse.
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But, tears were not the things to find their way to Mr. Bumble's soul; his heart was waterproof.
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It being a part of Mrs. Pipchin's system not to encourage a child's mind to develop and expand itself like a young flower, but to open it by force like an oyster.
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To see the butcher slap the steak before he laid it on the block, and give his knife a sharpening, was to forget breakfast instantly. It was agreeable too - it really was - to see him cut it off so smooth and juicy. There was nothing savage in the act, although the knife was large and keen; it was a piece of art, high art; there was delicacy of touch, clearness of tone, skilful handling of the subject, fine shading. It was the triumph of mind over matter; quite.
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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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We spent as much money as we could and got as little for it as people could make up their minds to give us. We were always more or less miserable, and most of our acquaintance were in the same condition. 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 aspect a rather common one.
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We must leave the discovery of this mystery, like all others, to time, and accident, and Heaven's pleasure.
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He was by no means opposed to hard labour on principle, for he would work away at a cricket-match by the day together, - running, and catching, and batting, and bowling, and revelling in toil which would exhaust a galley-slave.
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Now, what I want is, Facts. . . . Facts alone are wanted in life.
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To a young heart everything is fun.
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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.
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Father Time is not always a hard parent and though he tarries for none of his children, often lays his hand lightly upon those who have used him well; making them old men and women inexorably enough, but leaving their hearts and spirits young and in full vigor. With such people the gray head is but the impression of the old fellow's hand in giving them his blessing, and every wrinkle but a notch in the quiet calendar of a well-spent life.
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I went away, dear Agnes, loving you. I stayed away, loving you. I returned home, loving you!
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Dumb as a drum vith a hole in it, sir.
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It is not easy to walk alone in the country without musing upon something.