Date a boy who’s clever and noble. Date a boy with potential. Date a boy with a taste for wine. Date a boy who is cynical and sarcastic. Date a boy who is self-pitying. Date a boy who will love and respect you even when he acknowledges that you will never be his. Date a boy who speaks of you as being the last dream of his soul. Date a boy who would face the guillotine for your happiness. Date Sydney Carton.
They said of him, about the city that night, that it was the peacefullest man’s face ever beheld there. Many added that he looked sublime and prophetic. One of the most remarkable sufferers by the same axe - a woman - had asked at the foot of the same scaffold, not long before, to be allowed to write down the thoughts that were inspiring her. If he had given any utterance to his, and they were prophetic, they would have been these:
“I see Barsad, and Cly, Defarge, The Vengeance, the Jurymen, the Judge, long ranks of the new oppressors who have risen on the destruction of the old, perishing by this retributive instrument, before it shall cease out of its present use. I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss, and, in their struggles to be truly free, in their triumphs and defeats, through long, long years to come, I see the evil of this time and of the previous time of which this is the natural birth, gradually making expiation for itself and wearing out.
"I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy, in that England which I shall see no more. I see Her with a child upon her bosom, who bears my name. I see her father, aged and bent, but otherwise restored, and faithful to all men in his healing office, and at peace; I see the good old man, so long their friend, in ten years’ time enriching them with all he has, and passing tranquilly to his reward.
"I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. I see her, an old woman, weeping for me on the anniversary of this day. I see her and her husband, their course done, lying side by side in their last earthly bed, and I know that each was not more honoured and held sacred in the other’s soul, than I was in the souls of both.
"I see that child who lay upon her bosom and who bore my name, a man winning his way up in that path of life which once was mine. I see him winning it so well, that my name is made illustrious there by the light of his. I see the blots I threw upon it, faded away. I see him, foremost of just judges and honoured men, bringing a boy of my name, with a forehead that I know and golden hair, to this place - then fair to look upon, with not a trace of this day’s disfigurement - and I hear him tell the child my story, with a tender and a faltering voice.
"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known.”
A Tale of Two Cities
I honestly think this is the most beautiful passage in all of English fiction.
“ “You hear me? You’re coming with me right now. We’re getting out of here. You will not steal my life.” His words matched his mouth movements. They weren’t in Knox’s head anymore. This was a good sign. ”
Soooo I’m currently reading Proxy and I’m only at chapter 15 but that didn’t stop me from drawing out the scene were Syd and Knox are running away from the Guardians~ Bonus: Knox with his “retro” glasses