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December 2, 2024 - March 17, 2025
man of a rugged countenance, that was never lighted by a smile; cold, scanty and embarrassed in discourse; backward in sentiment; lean, long, dusty, dreary, and yet somehow lovable.
his affections, like ivy, were the growth of time, they implied no aptness in the object.
all as empty as a church—
one a little man who was stumping along eastward at a good walk, and the other a girl of maybe eight or ten who was running as hard as she was able down a cross street.
for the man trampled calmly over the child’s body and left her screaming on the ground.
Juggernaut.
He was the usual cut-and-dry apothecary, of no particular age and colour, with a strong Edinburgh accent, and about as emotional as a bagpipe.
apocryphal,
very pink of the proprieties,
“I can’t see what harm it would do. It was a man of the name of Hyde.”
There is something wrong with his appearance; something displeasing, something downright detestable.
he gives a strong feeling of deformity, although I couldn’t specify the point.
“But it is more than ten years since Henry Jekyll became too fanciful for me. He began to go wrong, wrong in mind;
“If he be Mr. Hyde,” he had thought, “I shall be Mr. Seek.”
Mr. Hyde was pale and dwarfish,
troglodytic,
O my poor old Harry Jekyll, if ever I read Satan’s signature upon a face, it is on that of your new friend.”
“Mr. Hyde has a key.” “Your master seems to repose a great deal of trust in that young man, Poole,” resumed the other musingly. “Yes, sir, he do indeed,” said Poole. “We have all orders to obey him.”
goes by the laboratory.”
There was no man from whom he kept fewer secrets than Mr. Guest; and he was not always sure that he kept as many as he meant. Guest had often been on business to the doctor’s; he knew Poole;
The death of Sir Danvers was, to his way of thinking, more than paid for by the disappearance of Mr. Hyde.
On the 12th, and again on the 14th, the door was shut against the lawyer. “The doctor was confined to the house,” Poole said, “and saw no one.” On the 15th, he tried again, and was again refused; and having now been used for the last two months to see his friend almost daily, he found this return of solitude to weigh upon his spirits.
But Lanyon’s face changed, and he held up a trembling hand. “I wish to see or hear no more of Dr. Jekyll,” he said in a loud, unsteady voice. “I am quite done with that person; and I beg that you will spare me any allusion to one whom I regard as dead.”
If I am the chief of sinners, I am the chief of sufferers also. I could not think that this earth contained a place for sufferings and terrors so unmanning; and you can do but one thing, Utterson, to lighten this destiny, and that is to respect my silence.”
A week afterwards Dr. Lanyon took to his bed, and in something less than a fortnight he was dead.
“Mr. Utterson,” said the man, “there is something wrong.”
“you come as gently as you can. I want you to hear, and I don’t want you to be heard. And see here, sir, if by any chance he was to ask you in, don’t go.”
“was that my master’s voice?” “It seems much changed,” replied the lawyer, very pale, but giving look for look. “Changed? Well, yes, I think so,”
This person (who had thus, from the first moment of his entrance, struck in me what I can only describe as a disgustful curiosity)
pale and shaken, and half-fainting, and groping before him with his hands, like a man restored from death— there stood Henry Jekyll!
The creature who crept into my house that night was, on Jekyll’s own confession, known by the name of Hyde and hunted for in every corner of the land as the murderer of Carew.
that man is not truly one, but truly two.
I stole through the corridors, a stranger in my own house; and coming to my room, I saw for the first time the appearance of Edward Hyde.
