I Wish I Had Never

Ladies Know What To Guard Against, Because They Read Novels That Tell Them Of These Tricks.

Christmas Eve, And Twelve Of The Clock. "now They Are All On Their Knees," An Elder Said As We Sat In A Flock By The Embers In Hearth-side Ease. We Pictured The Meek Mild Creatures Where They Dwelt In Their Strawy Pen, Nor Did It Occur To One Of Us There To Doubt They Were Kneeling Then. So Fair A Fancy Few Would Weave In These Years! Yet, I Feel If Someone Said On Christmas Eve, "come; See The Oxen Kneel, In The Lonely Barton By Yonder Coomb Our Childhood Used To Know," I Should Go With Him In The Gloom, Hoping It Might Be So.

The Offhand Decision Of Some Commonplace Mind High In Office At A Critical Moment Influences The Course Of Events For A Hundred Years.

Her Affection For Him Was Now The Breath And Life Of Tess's Being; It Enveloped Her As A Photosphere, Irradiated Her Into Forgetfulness Of Her Past Sorrows, Keeping Back The Gloomy Spectres That Would Persist In Their Attempts To Touch Her—doubt, Fear, Moodiness, Care, Shame. She Knew That They Were Waiting Like Wolves Just Outside The Circumscribing Light, But She Had Long Spells Of Power To Keep Them In Hungry Subjection There.

Pessimism Is Playing The Sure Game. You Cannot Lose At It; You May Gain. It Is The Only View Of Life In Which You Can Never Be Disappointed. Having Reckoned What To Do In The Worst Possible Circumstances, When Better Arise, As They May, Life Becomes Child's Play.