#charles

Elise?" He looked at her with a pleading, puppy-dog expression in his eyes. "Yes?" "I love you. ↗

— Nicky Charles

#i-love-you #law-of-the-lycans #love #nicky-charles #sweet

I can indeed hardly see how anyone ought to wish Christianity to be true for if so the plain language of the text seems to show that the men who do not believe, and this would include my father, brother and almost all of my friends, will be everlastingly punished. And this is a damnable doctrine. ↗

— Charles Darwin

#charles-darwin #religion #skepticism #men

A man would die tonight of lying out on the marshes, I thought. And then I looked at the stars, and considered how awful it would be for a man to turn his face up to them as he froze to death, and see no help or pitty in all the glittering multitude. ↗

— Charles Dickens

#death #great-expectations #stars #death

I first got to know Charles in the late seventies when I wrote an article and then a book about him and I think at the time he came across as quite appealing, it was probably the height of his popularity. ↗

— Anthony Holden

#across #appealing #article #book #came

When Christopher and Charles passed away, I was completely depressed, I felt rejected and real down, and so Roscoe invited me because he had this spirit of compassion, and we had gone to school together, were friends and everything. ↗

— Joseph Jarman

#because #charles #christopher #compassion #completely

Stories about Diana's fashions, about possible rows between Charles and Diana, these were meat and drink. ↗

— Andrew Morton

#between #charles #diana #drink #fashions

When we must pay the true price for the depletion of nature’s gifts, materials will become more precious to us, and economic logic will reinforce, and not contradict, our heart’s desire to treat the world with reverence and, when we receive nature’s gifts, to use them well. ↗

— Charles Eisenstein

#charles-eisenstein #ecology #economics #gaia #gift-giving

When the last autumn of Dickens's life was over, he continued to work through his final winter and into spring. This is how all of us writers give away the days and years and decades of our lives in exchange for stacks of paper with scratches and squiggles on them. And when Death calls, how many of us would trade all those pages, all that squandered lifetime-worth of painfully achieved scratches and squiggles, for just one more day, one more fully lived and experienced day? And what price would we writers pay for that one extra day spent with those we ignored while we were locked away scratching and squiggling in our arrogant years of solipsistic isolation? Would we trade all those pages for a single hour? Or all of our books for one real minute? ↗

— Dan Simmons

#charles-dickens #death #life #old-age #regret

The time of minor poets is coming. Good-by Whitman, Dickinson, Frost. Welcome you whose fame will never reach beyond your closest family, and perhaps one or two good friends gathered after dinner over a jug of fierce red wine… While the children are falling asleep and complaining about the noise you’re making as you rummage through the closets for your old poems, afraid your wife might’ve thrown them out with last spring’s cleaning. It’s snowing, says someone who has peeked into the dark night, and then he, too, turns toward you as you prepare yourself to read, in a manner somewhat theatrical and with a face turning red, the long rambling love poem whose final stanza (unknown to you) is hopelessly missing. ↗

— Charles Simic

#the-world-doesn-t-end #family

Ok, I see. When they say Charles Wovenu is passing by, everyone wants to see Charles Wovenu. But when they say to a child that "Bibi" is passing by, every child is hiding for "Bibi". What makes the difference is the impacts. ↗

— Israelmore Ayivor

#be-kind #bibi #c-k-n-wovenu #charles-kwabla-wovenu #charles-wovenu