Little Dorrit (Centaur Classics)

by Charles Dickens

It is hardly necessary to add that beyond all doubt he would have presented himself at Mr Casby’s door, if there had been no Little Dorrit in existence; for we all know how we all deceive ourselves — that is to say, how people in general, our profounder selves excepted, deceive themselves — as to motives of action.

None of us clearly know to whom or to what we are indebted in this wise, until some marked stop in the whirling wheel of life brings the right perception with it. It comes with sickness, it comes with sorrow, it comes with the loss of the dearly loved, it is one of the most frequent uses of adversity.

My life has been passed in this poor prison, and my teaching has been very defective; but let me implore you to remember later and better days. Be guided only by the healer of the sick, the raiser of the dead, the friend of all who were afflicted and forlorn, the patient Master who shed tears of compassion for our infirmities. We cannot but be right if we put all the rest away, and do everything in remembrance of Him. There is no vengeance and no infliction of suffering in His life, I am sure. There can be no confusion in following Him, and seeking for no other footsteps, I am certain.’