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usually contracted the eccentric habits which belong to a state of loneliness.
thought fondly of the guineas that were only half-earned by the work in his loom, as if they had been unborn children—thought
sense of security more frequently springs from habit than from conviction,
There’d be two ’pinions about a cracked bell, if the bell could hear itself.”
You’re as wet as a drownded rat.
not as one who seeks to be heard.
It is not bput the money, for money only has value in its expenditure. No, it is rather the promises which the moneyh inspire, the safetyness which comes from it, which he desires. Not money, but solace.
you’re no worse
In fact, in truth, he is precisely the same
language is a stream that is almost sure to smack of a mingled soil.
kindness fell on him as sunshine falls on the wretched—he
if there’s any good to be got we’ve need of it i’ this world—that
I wouldn’t speak ill o’ this world, seeing as Them put us in it as knows best—but
“love once, love always,”
the angils in heaven couldn’t be prettier,”
“it’s like the night and the morning, and the sleeping and the waking, and the rain and the harvest—one goes and the other comes, and we know nothing how nor where.
the gold had turned into the child.
As the child’s mind was growing into knowledge, his mind was growing into memory: as her life unfolded, his soul, long stupefied in a cold narrow prison, was unfolding too, and trembling gradually into full consciousness.
alarmed doubt
Often the soul is ripened into fuller goodness while age has spread an ugly film, so that mere glances can never divine the preciousness of the fruit.
I always think the flowers can see us and know what we’re talking about.
When you saw a thing was not meant to be, said Nancy, it was a bounden duty to leave off so much as wishing for it.
our life might have been more like what we used to think it ’ud be.”
I wasn’t worth doing wrong for—nothing is in this world. Nothing is so good as it seems beforehand—not
“How it hides the sky!
