Quotes About Progress

Much of my unassisted self, and more by the help of Biddy than of Mr. Wopsle's great-aunt, I struggled through the alphabet as if it had been a bramble-bush; getting considerably worried and scratched by every letter. After that, I fell among those thieves, the nine figures, who seemed every evening to do something new to disguise themselves and baffle recognition. But, at last I began, in a purblind groping way, to read, write, and cipher, on the very smallest scale

It is indeed a much greater thing that I do now than I have ever done.

We count by changes and events within us. Not by years.

In this round world of many circles within circles, do we make a weary journey from the high grade to the low, to find at last that they lie close together, that the two extremes touch, and that our journey's end is but our starting-place?

And from the death of each day's hope, another hope sprang up to live tomorrow.

The last burst carried the mail to the summit of the hill. The horses stopped to breathe again, and the guard got down to skid the wheel for the descent, and open the coach-door to let the passengers in.

it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was

People, from a congress of British subjects in America: which, strange to relate, have proved more important to the human race than any communications yet received

you'll find that as you get vider, you'll get viser. Vidth and visdom, Sammy, alvays grows together.

streets, came nearer and nearer.

The wheels rolled on, and rolled down by the Monument, and by the Tower; and by the Docks; down by Ratcliffe, and by Rotherhithe; down by where accumulated scum of humanity seemed to be washed from higher grounds, like so much moral sewage, and to be pausing until its own weight forced it over the bank and sunk it in the river.

The Fellow of No Delicacy XIV. The Honest Tradesman XV. Knitting XVI. Still Knitting XVII. One Night XVIII. Nine

And let us not remember Italy the less regardfully, because, in every fragment of her fallen Temples, and every stone of her deserted palaces and prisons, she helps to inculcate the lesson that the wheel of Time is rolling for an end, and that the world is, in all great essentials, better, gentler, more forbearing, and more hopeful, as it rolls!

I have stood aside to see the phantoms of those days go by me. They are gone, and I resume the journey of my story.

You are envious, Biddy, and grudging. You are dissatisfied on account of my rise in fortune, and you can't help showing it.

Book the Second—the Golden Thread I. Five Years Later II. A Sight III. A Disappointment IV.

Days XIX. An Opinion XX. A Plea XXI. Echoing Footsteps

And a beautiful world we live in, when it is possible, and when many other such things are possible, and not only possible, but done

All things ran their course.

Much of my unassisted self, and more by the help of Biddy than of Mr. Wopsle's great-aunt, I struggled through the alphabet as if it had been a bramble-bush; getting considerably worried and scratched by every letter. After that I fell among those thieves, the nine figures, who seemed every evening to do something new to disguise themselves and baffle recognition. But, at last I began, in a purblind groping way, to read, write, and cipher, on the very smallest scale. One

Second—the Golden Thread I. Five Years Later II. A Sight III. A Disappointment IV. Congratulatory V. The Jackal

Footsteps XXII. The Sea Still Rises XXIII. Fire Rises XXIV.

in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted

Boys are very like men to be sure.