The Mystery of Edwin Drood Quotes

“I loved you madly; in the distasteful work of the day, in the wakeful misery of the night, girded by sordid realities, or wandering through Paradises and Hells of visions into which I rushed, carrying your image in my arms, I loved you madly.”
― Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“How beautiful you are! You are more beautiful in anger than in repose. I don't ask you for your love; give me yourself and your hatred; give me yourself and that pretty rage; give me yourself and that enchanting scorn; it will be enough for me.”
― Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“He was simply and staunchly true to his duty alike in the large case and in the small. So all true souls ever are. So every true soul ever was, ever is, and ever will be. There is nothing little to the really great in spirit.”
― Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“But Rosa soon made the discovery that Miss Twinkleton didn't read fairly. She cut the love-scenes, interpolated passages in praise of female celibacy, and was guilty of other glaring pious frauds.”
― Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“Who is Mr. Jasper?"
Rosa turned aside her head in answering: "Eddy's uncle, and my music-master."
"You do not love him?"
"Ugh!" She put her hands up to her face, and shook with fear or horror.
"You know that he loves you?"
"O, don't, don't, don't!" cried Rosa, dropping on her knees, and clinging to her new resource. "Don't tell me of it! He terrifies me. He haunts my thoughts, like a dreadful ghost. I feel that I am never safe from him. I feel as if he could pass in through the wall when he is spoken of." She actually did look round, as if she dreaded to see him standing in the shadow behind her.
"Try to tell me more about it, darling."
"Yes, I will, I will. Because you are so strong. But hold me the while, and stay with me afterwards."
"My child! You speak as if he had threatened you in some dark way."
"He has never spoken to me about - that. Never."
"What has he done?"
"He has made a slave of me with his looks. He has forced me to understand him, without his saying a word; and he has forced me to keep silence, without his uttering a threat. When I play, he never moves his eyes from my hands. When I sing, he never moves his eyes from my lips. When he corrects me, and strikes a note, or a chord, or plays a passage, he himself is in the sounds, whispering that he pursues me as a lover, and commanding me to keep his secret. I avoid his eyes, but he forces me to see them without looking at them. Even when a glaze comes over them (which is sometimes the case), and he seems to wander away into a frightful sort of dream in which he threatens most, he obliges me to know it, and to know that he is sitting close at my side, more terrible to me than ever."
"What is this imagined threatening, pretty one? What is threatened?"
"I don't know. I have never even dared to think or wonder what it is."
"And was this all, to-night?"
"This was all; except that to-night when he watched my lips so closely as I was singing, besides feeling terrified I felt ashamed and passionately hurt. It was as if he kissed me, and I couldn't bear it, but cried out. You must never breathe this to any one. Eddy is devoted to him. But you said to-night that you would not be afraid of him, under any circumstances, and that gives me - who am so much afraid of him - courage to tell only you. Hold me! Stay with me! I am too frightened to be left by myself.”
― Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“For certain, neither of them sees a happy Present, as the gate opens and closes, and one goes in, and the other goes away.”
― Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“Some remote fragment of Main Line to somewhere else, there was, which was going to ruin the Money Market if it failed, and Church and State if it succeeded, and (of course), the Constitution, whether or no;”
― Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“Imagine my not letting him sink, as I was his fag!’ said Mr. Tartar. ”
― Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“Secondly, the Philanthropists had not the good temper of the Pugilists, and used worse language. ”
― Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“Old Time heaved a moldy sigh from tomb and arch and vault; and gloomy shadows began to deepen in corners; and damps began to rise from green patches of stone; and jewels, cast upon the pavement of the nave from stained glass by the declining sun, began to perish. Within the grill-gate of the chancel, up the steps surmounted loomingly by the fast darkening organ, white robes could be dimly seen, and one feeble voice, rising and falling in a cracked monotonous mutter, could at intervals be faintly heard. In the free outer air, the river, the green pastures, and the brown arable lands, the teeming hills and dales, were reddened by the sunset: while the distant little windows in windmills and farm homesteads, shone, patches of bright beaten gold. In the Cathedral, all became gee, murky, and sepulchral, and the cracked monotonous mutter went on like a dying voice, until the organ and the choir burst forth, and drowned it in a sea of music. Then, the sea fell, and the dying voice made another feeble effort, and then the sea rose high, and beat its life out, and lashed the roof, and surged among the arches, and pierced the heights of the great tower; and then the sea was dry, and all was still.”
― Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“That sprung up between us.  You are not truly happy”
― Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“Mrs. Crisparkle had need of her own share of philanthropy when she beheld this very large and very loud excrescence on the little party. Always something in the nature of a Boil upon the face of society, Mr. Honeythunder expanded into an inflammatory Wen in Minor Canon Corner. Though it was not literally true, as was facetiously charged against him by public unbelievers, that he called aloud to his fellow-creatures: ‘Curse your souls and bodies, come here and be blessed!’ still his philanthropy was of that gunpowderous sort that the difference between it and animosity was hard to determine. You were to abolish military force, but you were first to bring all commanding officers who had done their duty, to trial by court-martial for that offence, and shoot them. You were to abolish war, but were to make converts by making war upon them, and charging them with loving war as the apple of their eye. You were to have no capital punishment, but were first to sweep off the face of the earth all legislators, jurists, and judges, who were of the contrary opinion. You were to have universal concord, and were to get it by eliminating all the people who wouldn’t, or conscientiously couldn’t, be concordant. You were to love your brother as yourself, but after an indefinite interval of maligning him (very much as if you hated him), and calling him all manner of names. Above all things, you were to do nothing in private, or on your own account. You were to go to the offices of the Haven of Philanthropy, and put your name down as a Member and a Professing Philanthropist. Then, you were to pay up your subscription, get your card of membership and your riband and medal, and were evermore to live upon a platform, and evermore to say what Mr. Honeythunder said, and what the Treasurer said, and what the sub-Treasurer said, and what the Committee said, and what the sub-Committee said, and what the Secretary said, and what the Vice-Secretary said. And this was usually said in the unanimously-carried resolution under hand and seal, to the effect: ‘That this assembled Body of Professing Philanthropists views, with indignant scorn and contempt, not unmixed with utter detestation and loathing abhorrence’—in short, the baseness of all those who do not belong to it, and pledges itself to make as many obnoxious statements as possible about them, without being at all particular as to facts.”
― Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“Miss Brobity’s Being, young man, was deeply imbued with homage to Mind. She revered Mind, when launched, or, as I say, precipitated, on an extensive knowledge of the world. When I made my proposal, she did me the honour to be so overshadowed with a species of Awe, as to be able to articulate only the two words, “O Thou!” meaning myself. Her limpid blue eyes were fixed upon me, her semi-transparent hands were clasped together, pallor overspread her aquiline features, and, though encouraged to proceed, she never did proceed a word further. I disposed of the parallel establishment by private contract, and we became as nearly one as could be expected under the circumstances. But she never could, and she never did, find a phrase satisfactory to her perhaps-too-favourable estimate of my intellect. To the very last (feeble action of liver), she addressed me in the same unfinished terms.”
― Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“Always something in the nature of a Boil upon the face of society, Mr. Honeythunder expanded into an inflammatory Wen in Minor Canon Corner. Though it was not literally true, as was facetiously charged against him by public unbelievers, that he called aloud to his fellow-creatures: ‘Curse your souls and bodies, come here and be blessed!’ still his philanthropy was of that gunpowderous sort that the difference between it and animosity was hard to determine. You were to abolish military force, but you were first to bring all commanding officers who had done their duty, to trial by court-martial for that offence, and shoot them. You were to abolish war, but were to make converts by making war upon them, and charging them with loving war as the apple of their eye. You were to have no capital punishment, but were first to sweep off the face of the earth all legislators, jurists, and judges, who were of the contrary opinion. You were to have universal concord, and were to get it by eliminating all the people who wouldn’t, or conscientiously couldn’t, be concordant. You were to love your brother as yourself, but after an indefinite interval of maligning him (very much as if you hated him), and calling him all manner of names.”
― Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“Según su criterio, era necesario suprimir las fuerzas armadas, pero para llegar a esto se imponía antes un juicio militar a todo el Estado Mayor, que no había cumplido con su deber, y pasarlos por las armas. Había que abolir la guerra, pero declarándola antes encarnizadamente a aquellos que la fomentaban. Había que derogar la pena capital, pero antes borrar de la faz de la tierra a todos los legisladores y jueces que sostuvieran opinión contraría. Era menester establecer la concordia universal, pero para ello había que exterminar a cuantos no quisieran ponerla en práctica.”
― Charles Dickens, El misterio de Edwin Drood

“When the French come over, May we meet them at Dover!”
― Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“Mr. Tope is again highly entertained, and, having fallen into respectful convulsions of laughter, subsides into a deferential murmur, importing that surely any gentleman would deem it a pleasure and an honour to have his neck broken, in return for such a compliment from such a source.”
― Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“Stony One replies, in a general way, ‘All right.  Everybody knows where to find Durdles, when he’s wanted.’  Which, if not strictly true, is approximately so, if taken to express that Durdles may always be found in a state of vagabondage somewhere.”
― Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“Indeed, sir! Yes; I knew that Pussy was looking out for me.'
'Do you keep a cat down there?' asked Mr. Grewgious.
Edwin colored a little, as he explained: 'I call Rosa Pussy.'
"Oh, Really,' said Mr. Grewgious, smoothing down his head:' that's very affable.”
― Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“This pure young feeling, this gentle and forbearing feeling of each towards the other, brought with it its reward in a softening light that seemed to shine on their position. The relations between them did not look wilful, or capricious, or a failure, in such a light; they became elevated into something more self-denying, honorable, affectionate, and true.”
― Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“But, Mr. Grewgious seeing nothing there, not even a light in the windows, his gaze wandered from the windows to the stars, as if he would have read in them something that was hidden from him. Many of us would, if we could; but none of us so much as know our letters in the stars yet- or seem likely to, in this state of existence - and few languages can be read until their alphabets are mastered.”
― Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“When the French come over,
May we meet them at Dover!’ This was a patriotic toast in Mr. Sapsea’s infancy, and he is therefore fully convinced of its being appropriate to any subsequent era.”
― Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“You know now, don’t you, that even a poor monotonous chorister and grinder of music—in his niche—may be troubled with some stray sort of ambition, aspiration, restlessness, dissatisfaction, what shall we call it?”
― Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“—Si yo estuviera muriéndome, creo que una palabra suya me devolvería a la vida, señor.”
― Charles Dickens, El misterio de Edwin Drood

“Yo tengo la; sensación de haber recibido una afrenta, agravada por la decidida intención de ofenderme, y esto me ha irritado sobremanera. La verdad lisa y llana es que me siento hoy tan indignado como el primer día.”
― Charles Dickens, El misterio de Edwin Drood

“tanto se apasionan con sus errores estas hermosas adivinas.”
― Charles Dickens, El misterio de Edwin Drood

“—He dicho: ¡Que Dios los bendiga! —corrige el primero, volviendo bruscamente la cabeza. —Yo he dicho ¡Que Dios los salve! —insiste el segundo—. ¿Encuentra usted alguna diferencia?”
― Charles Dickens, El misterio de Edwin Drood

“Los tiempos pasados exhalan un profundo y armonioso suspiro cuyo eco repercute desde las tumbas hasta los arcos y las bóvedas del templo; sombras tenebrosas se alargan en los rincones oscuros; la humedad rezuma en las piedras ligeramente aterciopeladas de musgo; los últimos rayos del sol, que atravesando los vitrales ponen sobre las losas sus manchas coloreadas, comienzan a velarse con la caída de la tarde. Detrás de la reja del coro, sobre el estrado del gran órgano, se divisan algunas vestiduras blancas. Una débil voz se eleva en el aire y se apaga luego con monótono ritmo pareciendo, por momentos, que muere en un murmullo lejano. Afuera,”
― Charles Dickens, El misterio de Edwin Drood

“¡Gracias, mi querida! El honor que me haces sólo es comparable al placer que me causas. Señorita”
― Charles Dickens, El misterio de Edwin Drood

“pero convencidos de que van a ser felices. Es”
― Charles Dickens, El misterio de Edwin Drood