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G.K. Chesterton

G.K. Chesterton


Gilbert Keith Chesterton was one of the most influential English writers of the 20th century. His prolific and diverse output included journalism, philosophy, poetry, biography, Christian apologetics, fantasy and detective fiction.

Chesterton has been called the "prince of paradox". Time magazine, in a review of a biography of Chesterton, observed of his writing style: "Whenever possible Chesterton made his points with popular sayings, proverbs, allegories—first carefully turning them inside out.
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¡Adelante! Por los malos caminos si no hay otros, por los buenos si se puede; pero ¡adelante! Saltemos por encima de todos los obstáculos para llegar a la meta
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obtuse, Holmes,
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She submitted to walk slowly on, with downcast eyes. He put her hand to his lips, and she quietly drew it away. ‘Will you walk beside me, Mr Wrayburn, and not touch me?’ For, his arm was already stealing round her waist. She stopped again, and gave him an earnest supplicating look. ‘Well, Lizzie, well!’ said he, in an easy way though ill at ease with himself ‘don’t be unhappy, don’t be reproachful.’ ‘I cannot help being unhappy, but I do not mean to be reproachful. Mr Wrayburn, I implore you to go away from this neighbourhood, to-morrow morning.’ ‘Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie!’ he remonstrated. ‘As well be reproachful as wholly unreasonable. I can’t go away.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘Faith!’ said Eugene in his airily candid manner. ‘Because you won’t let me. Mind! I don’t mean to be reproachful either. I don’t complain that you design to keep me here. But you do it, you do it.’ ‘Will you walk beside me, and not touch me;’ for, his arm was coming about her again; ‘while I speak to you very seriously, Mr Wrayburn?’ ‘I will do anything within the limits of possibility, for you, Lizzie,’ he answered with pleasant gaiety as he folded his arms. ‘See here! Napoleon Buonaparte at St Helena.’ ‘When you spoke to me as I came from the Mill the night before last,’ said Lizzie, fixing her eyes upon him with the look of supplication which troubled his better nature, ‘you told me that you were much surprised to see me, and that you were on a solitary fishing excursion. Was it true?’ ‘It was not,’ replied Eugene composedly, ‘in the least true. I came here, because I had information that I should find you here.’ ‘Can you imagine why I left London, Mr Wrayburn?’ ‘I am afraid, Lizzie,’ he openly answered, ‘that you left London to get rid of me. It is not flattering to my self-love, but I am afraid you did.’ ‘I did.’ ‘How could you be so cruel?’ ‘O Mr Wrayburn,’ she answered, suddenly breaking into tears, ‘is the cruelty on my side! O Mr Wrayburn, Mr Wrayburn, is there no cruelty in your being here to-night!’ ‘In the name of all that’s good—and that is not conjuring you in my own name, for Heaven knows I am not good’—said Eugene, ‘don’t be distressed!’ ‘What else can I be, when I know the distance and the difference between us? What else can I be, when to tell me why you came here, is to put me to shame!’ said Lizzie, covering her face. He looked at her with a real sentiment of remorseful tenderness and pity. It was not strong enough to impell him to sacrifice himself and spare her, but it was a strong emotion. ‘Lizzie! I never thought before, that there was a woman in the world who could affect me so much by saying so little. But don’t be hard in your construction of me. You don’t know what my state of mind towards you is. You don’t know how you haunt me and bewilder me. You don’t know how the cursed carelessness that is over-officious in helping me at every other turning of my life, won’t help me here. You have struck it dead, I think, and I sometimes almost wish you had struck me dead along with it.
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Providence had seen fit to make them only hands, or, like the lower creatures of the seashore, only hands and stomachs—
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whose matter he knew well, and would have given mines to have, in any form, upon the narrow shell beside his bed at Mr Pecksniff's. What a heart-breaking shop it was! There
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But is it coincidence? Are there not subtle forces at work of which we know little?
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A man always finds it hard to realize that he may have finally lost a woman's love, however badly he may have treated her. He
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I don't know what to do and my whole life seems to have gone to pieces.
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of the Scotland Yarders,” my friend remarked; “he
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With the unreasonable petulance of mankind I rang the bell and gave a curt intimation that I was ready.
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There is an appalling directness about your questions, Watson," said Holmes, shaking his pipe at me. "They come at me like bullets.
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I ejaculated after I had twice read over the extraordinary announcement. Holmes chuckled and wriggled in his chair,
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consider that a man's brain originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such furniture as you choose. A fool takes in all the lumber of every sort that he comes across, so that the knowledge which might be useful to him gets crowded out, or at best is jumbled up with a lot of other things so that he has a difficulty in laying his hands upon it. Now the skilful workman is very careful indeed as to what he takes into his brain-attic. He will have nothing but the tools which may help him in doing his
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To-night I consign you, to the living death to which you devoted her – a hopeless prison–
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He claims that the power of producing and appreciating it existed among the human race long before the power of speech was arrived at. Perhaps that is why we are so subtly influenced by it. There are vague memories in our souls of those misty centuries when the world was in its childhood.
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God! what would I forfeit to have the days of my childhood restored, or to be able to forget them for ever!
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I consider that a man's brain originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such furniture as you choose. A fool takes in all the lumber of every sort that he comes across, so that the knowledge which might be useful to him gets crowded out, or at best is jumbled up with a lot of other things so that he has a difficulty in laying his hands upon it.
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Tears are not the only proofs of distress, nor the best ones.
topics: grief , tears  
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SHERLOCK HOLMES—his limits.   1. Knowledge of Literature.—Nil.   2.     Philosophy.—Nil.   3.     Astronomy.—Nil.   4.     Politics.—Feeble.   5.     Botany.—Variable.  Well up in belladonna,               opium, and poisons generally.               Knows nothing of practical gardening.   6.     Geology.—Practical, but limited.               Tells at a glance different soils               from each other.  After walks has               shown me splashes upon his trousers,               and told me by their color and               consistence in what part of London               he had received them.   7.     Chemistry.—Profound.   8.     Anatomy.—Accurate, but unsystematic.   9.     Sensational Literature.—Immense.  He appears               to know every detail of every horror               perpetrated in the century.   10. Plays the violin well.   11. Is an expert singlestick player, boxer, and swordsman.   12. Has a good practical knowledge of British law.
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Yes, I have a pair of eyes,' replied Sam, 'and that's just it. If they wos a pair o' patent double million magnifyin' gas microscopes of hextra power, p'raps I might be able to see through a flight o' stairs and a deal door; but bein' only eyes, you see, my wision 's limited.
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