Maxioms by Charles Dickens
Oh the nerves, the nerves; the mysteries of this machine called man! Oh the little that unhinges it, poor creatures read more
Oh the nerves, the nerves; the mysteries of this machine called man! Oh the little that unhinges it, poor creatures that we are!
If you don't like the weather, wait a minute
If you don't like the weather, wait a minute
Which fiddle-strings is weakness to expredge my nerves this night!
Which fiddle-strings is weakness to expredge my nerves this night!
Jobling, there are chords in the human mind.
Jobling, there are chords in the human mind.
It is a far, far better thing that I do, than anything I have ever done; it is a far, read more
It is a far, far better thing that I do, than anything I have ever done; it is a far, far, better rest that I go to, than I have ever known.
