In the four hundred and thirteenth year of the Christian era, some three hundred miles above Alexandria, the young monk Philammon was sitting on the edge of a low range of inland cliffs, crested with drifting sand. — Charles Kingsley Copy Share Image
A fine lady; by which term I wish to express the result of that perfect education in taste and manner, down to every gesture,… — Charles Kingsley Copy Share Image
If I am ever obscure in my expressions, do not fancy that therefore I am deep. If I were really deep, all the world… — Charles Kingsley Copy Share Image
He was one of those men who possess almost every gift, except the gift of the power to use them. — Charles Kingsley Copy Share Image
Do you feel that you have lost your way in life? Then God Himself will show you your way. Are you utterly helpless, worn… — Charles Kingsley Copy Share Image
My friends, let us try to follow the Saviour's steps; let us remember all day long what it is to be men; that it… — Charles Kingsley Copy Share Image
We have used the Bible as if it was a mere special constable's handbook — an opium-dose for keeping beasts of burden patient while… — Charles Kingsley Copy Share Image
He was not only, I soon discovered, a water drinker, but a strict vegetarian, to which, perhaps, he owed a great deal of the… — Charles Kingsley Copy Share Image
Look at the bow in the cloud, in the very rain itself. That is a sign that the sun, though you cannot see it,… — Charles Kingsley Copy Share Image
Beauty is God's handwriting — a wayside sacrament; welcome it in every fair face, every fair sky, every fair flower, and thank for it Him. — Charles Kingsley Copy Share Image
... the heroism of the average mother. Ah! When I think of that broad fact, I gather hope again for poor humanity; and this… — Charles Kingsley Copy Share Image
