If You Could Say, With Truth, To Your Own Solitary Heart, To-night, 'i Have Secured To Myself The Love And Attachment, The Gratitude Or Respect, Of No Human Creature; I Have Won Myself A Tender Place In No Regard; I Have Done Nothing Good Or Serviceable To Be Remembered By!' Your Seventy-eight Years Would Be Seventy-eight Heavy Curses; Would They Not?
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If You Could Say, With Truth, To
Charles Dickens
If You Could Say, With Truth, To Your Own Solitary Heart, To-night, 'i Have Secured To Myself The Love And Attachment, The Gratitude Or Respect, Of No Human Creature; I Have Won Myself A Tender Place In No Regard; I Have Done Nothing Good Or Serviceable To Be Remembered By!' Your Seventy-eight Years Would Be Seventy-eight Heavy Curses; Would They Not?
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