The topography of literature$$$ the fact in fiction$$$ is one of my pleasures -- I mean$$$ where the living road enters the pages of a book$$$ and you are able to stroll along both the real and imagined road.

How is it they live in such harmony$$$ the billions of stars$$$ when most men can barely go a minute without declaring war in their minds?

The truth of our faith becomes a matter of ridicule among the infidels if any Catholic$$$ not gifted with the necessary scientific learning$$$ presents as dogma what scientific scrutiny shows to be false.

...to be skillful in domestic duties was surely one of the most charming of woman's qualities.

Of all the vices which degrade the human character$$$ Selfishness is the most odious and contemptible. An undue love of Self leads to the most monstrous crimes and occasions the greatest misfortunes both in States and Families. As a selfish man will impoverish his family and often bring them to ruin$$$ so a selfish king brings ruin on his people and often plunges them into war.

Miss Sedley was almost as flurried at the act of defiance as Miss Jemima had been; for$$$ consider$$$ it was but one minute that she had left school$$$ and the impressions of six years are not got over in that space of time. Nay$$$ with some persons those awes and terrors of youth last for ever and ever. I know$$$ for instance$$$ an old gentleman of sixty-eight$$$ who said to me one morning at breakfast$$$ with a very agitated countenance$$$ 'I dreamed last night that I was flogged by Dr Raine.' Fancy had carried him back five-and-fifty years in the course of that evening.

Perhaps as he was lying awake then$$$ his life may have passed before him--his early hopeful struggles$$$ his manly successes and prosperity$$$ his downfall in his declining years$$$ and his present helpless condition--no chance of revenge against Fortune$$$ which had had the better of him--neither name nor money to bequeath--a spent-out$$$ bootless life of defeat and disappointment$$$ and the end here! Which$$$ I wonder$$$ brother reader$$$ is the better lot$$$ to die prosperous and famous$$$ or poor and disappointed?

Who has not remarked the readiness with which the closest of friends and honestest of men suspect and accuse each other of cheating when they fall out on money matters? Everybody does it. Everybody is right$$$ I suppose$$$ and the world is a rogue.

Here is a minute. It may be my love is dead$$$ but here is a minute to kneel over the grave and pray by it.

All journeys were return journeys.