Nicholas Nickleby

by Charles Dickens

'The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again.

The beauty of the earth is but a breath, and man is but a shadow.

To remember happiness which cannot be restored, is pain, but of a softened kind.

Dreams are the bright creatures of poem and legend, who sport on earth in the night season, and melt away in the first beam of the sun,

'I wish I could do you, or any of you, a greater,' said Miss La Creevy; 'but the power to serve, is as seldom joined with the will, as the will is with the power, I think.'

for nature gives to every time and season some beauties of its own; and from morning to night, as from the cradle to the grave, is but a succession of changes so gentle and easy, that we can scarcely mark their progress.