Maxioms by Charles Dickens
Jobling, there are chords in the human mind.
Jobling, there are chords in the human mind.
What is the odds so long as the fire of souls is kindled at the
taper of conwiviality, and read more
What is the odds so long as the fire of souls is kindled at the
taper of conwiviality, and the wing of friendship never moults a
feather?
He would make a lovely corpse.
He would make a lovely corpse.
Oh, a dainty plant is the ivy green,
That creepeth o'er ruins old!
Of right choice food read more
Oh, a dainty plant is the ivy green,
That creepeth o'er ruins old!
Of right choice food are his meals I ween,
In his cell so lone and cold.
. . . .
Creeping where no life is seen,
A rare old plant is the ivy green.
Secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster.
Secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster.
