A Good Thing Can't Be Cruel.

Everybody Said So. Far Be It From Me To Assert That What Everybody Says Must Be True. Everybody Is, Often, As Likely To Be Wrong As Right.

"hope To The Last!" Said Newman, Clapping Him On The Back. "always Hope; That's Dear Boy. Never Leave Off Hoping; It Don't Answer. Do You Mind Me, Nick? It Don't Answer. Don't Leave A Stone Unturned. It's Always Something, To Know You've Done The Most You Could. But, Don't Leave Off Hoping, Or It's Of No Use Doing Anything. Hope, Hope, To The Last!"

The Clouds Were Flying Fast, The Wind Was Coming Up In Gusts, Banging Some Neighboring Shutters That Had Broken Loose, Twirling The Rusty Chimney-cowls And Weathercocks, And Rushing Round And Round A Confined Adjacent Churchyard As If It Had A Mind To Blow The Dead Citizens Out Of Their Graves. The Low Thunder, Muttering In All Quarters Of The Sky At Once, Seemed To Threaten Vengeance For This Attempted Desecration, And To Mutter, "let Them Rest! Let Them Rest!

I Thought It Very Touching To See These Two Women, Coarse And Shabby And Beaten, So United; To See What They Could Be To One Another; To See How They Felt For One Another, How The Heart Of Each To Each Was Softened By The Hard Trials Of Their Lives. I Think The Best Side Of Such People Is Almost Hidden From Us. What The Poor Are To The Poor Is Little Known, Excepting To Themselves And God.

In The Little World In Which Children Have Their Existence, Whosoever Brings Them Up, There Is Nothing So Finely Perceived And So Finely Felt, As Injustice.