Quotes About Dear

Mr. Toogood, as he came forward to meet him, thought that he had never seen a sweeter face. There was very much of melancholy in it, of that soft sadness of age which seems to acknowledge, and in some sort to regret, the waning oil of life; but the regret to be read in such faces has in it nothing of the bitterness of grief; there is no repining that the end has come, but simply a touch of sorrow that so much that is dear must be left behind.

She was a Catholic... And deemed that fallen worship far more dear Perhaps because 'twas fallen...' Lord Byron, Don Juan

It would be superfluous to drive us mad, my dear Watson, said he. A candid observer would certainly declare that we were so already before we embarked upon so wild an experiment.

No, no, my dear Watson. The more deeply sunk impression is, of course, the hind wheel, upon which the weight rests.

What are you reading, my dear? A pretty sight, a lady with a book.

Second, my dear husband, I pronounce you a certified lunatic. You might as well run naked through the streets!

Dear killer, spare not they sweet-cruel shot: A kind of grace it is to slay with speed. - From Astrophel and Stella

He was once an abstract Grandeur which I struggled more in fear than love to please. He has become a living Presence, dear and real

For a whole fortnight now, my dear, I have been living the life of society; one evening at the Italiens, another at the Grand Opera, and always a ball afterwards. Ah! society is a witching world.

A whole generation is moving away from highly ritualistic practices into a more thinking, spiritual process. By spiritual, I don't refer to a cult or a guru. In your heart, you continue to feel the presence of people who've been dear to you even after they've left.

But then to every lover of the truth, a true thing is dearer because it is old-fashioned, and dearer because it is new-fashioned: and true music, like true love, like all truth, laughs at the god Fashion, because it knows him to be but an ape.

Take my advice, my dear Mr Walton, and don't make too much of your poor, or they'll soon be too much for you to manage.—Come, Pet: it's time to go home to lunch.—And for the surplice, take your own way and wear it. I shan't say anything more about it.

A parade passes. He can't rise and join. Am I to run after it, take my place, lift knees high, wave a flag, blow a horn? Was he dear or not? Then let me be happy no more.

You will very soon be. Sit down. Why are you not at the ball?" "I had no inclination for it, sir. I might ask, why are not you?" "Not finding you there, I came here," he replied. "I am indeed flattered," said Miss Challoner. He laughed. "It's all I went for, my dear, I assure you. Why was that fellow holding your hands?" "For comfort," said Miss Challoner desolately. He held out his own. "Give them to me.

What do you mean to do when you reach Lacy Manor?' asked Sir Horace, regarding him in some amusement. 'Wring Sophy's neck!' said Mr Rivenhall savagely. 'Well, you don't need my help for that, my dear boy!' said Sir Horace, settling himself more comfortably in his chair.

You assume a mighty lofty tone, to be sure –''No, no, it comes quite naturally,' my lord interpolated sweetly. 'I assume nothing; I am a positive child of nature, my dear sir. But you were saying?

People who collect objects of rarity, my dear Eustacie, will often, so I believe, go to quite unheard of lengths to acquire the prize they covet.

But I fancy I rather more sense than you give me credit for and also my dear I know you a trifle better than you do yourself. You will tell me that I am impertinent but so it is, little though you may think it.

I am very much obliged to my uncle, but the thought that he might find another way of rescuing me from my dear rake puts me in the liveliest dread!

They told me the first mourner to come was the dog. He came uninvited, and stood up on his hind legs and rested his fore paws upon the trestle, and took a last long look at the face that was so dear to him, then went his way as silently as he had come. HE KNOWS.

LINDA, resigned: Well, you'll just have to take a rest, Willy, you can't continue this way. WILLY: I just got back from Florida. LINDA: But you didn't rest your mind. Your mind is overactive, and the mind is what counts, dear.

The satisfaction with which you parade your proof of the lottery origin of human nature is not pure. It is, besides the joy of knowledge, a pleasure in befouling that which others consider lovely and hold dear.

Evil always has an advantage and always succeeds until its enormous feet understep some moral chasm, or a damsel held dear by the populace cries out and is heard.

Memories are the precious moments wrapped in delicate ribbon. The ones kept dear are beautifully woven around our heart, the ones that don't hold the beauty of the ribbon, unties itself naturally.