Jack Smith

“Homely filth begrimed him, homely parasites devour him, homely sores are in him, homely rags are on him: native ignorance, the growth of English soil and climate, sinks his immortal nature lower than the beasts that perish. Stand forth, Jo, in uncompromising colors! From the sole of thy foot to the crown of thy head, there is nothing interesting about thee.”
― Charles Dickens

“Darkness rests upon Tom-all-alone’s. Dilating and dilating since the sun went down last night, it has gradually swelled until it fills every void in the place. For a time there were some dungeon lights burning, as the lamp of Life burns in Tom-all-alone’s, heavily, heavily, in the nauseous air, and winking – as that lamp, too, winks in Tom-all-alone’s – at many horrible things. But they were blotted out. The moon has eyes Tom with a dull cold stare, as admitting some puny emulation of herself in his desert region unfit for life and blasted by volcanic fires; but she has passed on, and is gone. The blackest nightmare in the infernal stables grazes on Tom-all-alone’s, and Tom is fast asleep.”
― Charles Dickens, Bleak House

“We were all in it together. We were all in one big shit pot together. There was no escape. We were all going to be flushed away.”
― Charles Bukowski, Ham on Rye

“The world is before you; and it is most probable that as you enter it, so it will receive you. Trust in nothing but in Providence and your own efforts. Never separate the two; like the heathen waggoner. Constancy in love is a good thing; but it means nothing, and is nothing, without constancy in every kind of effort. If you had the abilities of all the great men, past and present, you could do nothing well without sincerely meaning it, and setting about it. If you entertain the supposition that any real success, in great things or small, ever was or could be, ever will or can be, wrested from Fortune by fits and starts, leave that wrong idea here”
― Charles Dickens, Bleak House