Notwithstanding his very liberal laudation of himself, however, the Major was selfish. It may be doubted whether there ever was a more entirely selfish person at heart; or at stomach is perhaps a better expression, seeing that he was more decidedly endowed with that latter organ than with the former. ~ Dombey and Son
A brisk, bright, blue-eyed fellow,
A brisk, bright, blue-eyed fellow, a very neat figure and rather under the middle size, never out of the way and never in it . . ~ Wreck of the Golden Mary
The village street was like
The village street was like most other village streets: wide for its height, silent for its size, and drowsy in the dullest degree. ~ Tom Tiddler’s Ground
Mrs. Boffin and Me
“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.” ~ Our Mutual Friend
It was a bleak autumnal
It was a bleak autumnal afternoon indeed; and as she walked, and hushed, and, glancing through the dreary windows, pressed the little fellow closer to her breast, the withered leaves came showering down. ~ Dombey and Son
Looking up, she showed him
Looking up, she showed him quite a young face, but one whose bloom and promise were all swept away, as if the haggard winter should unnaturally kill the spring. ~ The Haunted Man
She was truest to them
She was truest to them in the season of trial, as all the quietly loyal and good will always be. ~ A Tale of Two Cities
It was a dagger in
It was a dagger in the haughty father’s heart, an arrow in his brain, to see how the flesh and blood he could not disown clung to this obscure stranger, and he sitting by. Not that he cared to whom his daughter turned, or from whom turned away. The swift sharp agony struck through him, as he thought of what his son might do. ~ Dombey and Son
Mr. and Mrs. Boffin sat
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. ~ Our Mutual Friend
I believe, Mr. Snitchey,’ said
I believe, Mr. Snitchey,’ said Alfred, ‘there are quiet victories and struggles, great sacrifices of self, and noble acts of heroism, in it – even in many of its apparent lightnesses and contradictions – not the less difficult to achieve, because they have no earthly chronicle or audience – done every day in nooks and corners, and in little households, and in men’s and women’s hearts – any one of which might reconcile the sternest man to such a world, and fill him with belief and hope in it.” ~ The Battle of Life
