1
Done because we are too menny.
Jude the Obscure
(1896) pt. 6, ch. 2
2
Dialect words—those terrible marks of the beast to the truly genteel.
The Mayor of Casterbridge
(1886) ch. 20
3
Happiness was but the occasional episode in a general drama of pain.
The Mayor of Casterbridge
(1886) ch. 45, closing words
4
"Justice" was done, and the President of the Immortals (in Aeschylean phrase) had ended his sport with Tess.
Tess of the D'Urbervilles
(1891) ch. 59
5
After two thousand years of mass
We've got as far as poison-gas.
"Christmas: 1924" (1928)
6
In a solitude of the sea
Deep from human vanity,
And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she.
"Convergence of the Twain" (1914)
7
The Immanent Will that stirs and urges everything.
"Convergence of the Twain" (1914)
8
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume.
"The Darkling Thrush" (1902)
9
So little cause for carollings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.
"The Darkling Thrush" (1902)
10
I am the family face;
Flesh perishes, I live on,
Projecting trait and trace
Through time to times anon,
And leaping from place to place
Over oblivion.
"Heredity" (1917)
11
What of the faith and fire within us
Men who march away.
"Men Who March Away" (1914)
12
In the third-class seat sat the journeying boy
And the roof-lamp's oily flame
Played down on his listless form and face,
Bewrapt past knowing to what he was going,
Or whence he came.
"Midnight on the Great Western" (1917)
13
Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me.
"The Voice" (1914)
14
This is the weather the cuckoo likes,
And so do I.
"Weathers" (1922)
15
When I set out for Lyonnesse,
A hundred miles away,
The rime was on the spray,
And starlight lit my lonesomeness
When I set out for Lyonnesse
A hundred miles away.
"When I set out for Lyonnesse" (1914)
16
If this sort of thing continues no more novel-writing for me. A man must be a fool to deliberately stand up and be shot at.
of a hostile review of Tess of the D'Urbervilles, 1891
Florence Hardy
The Early Life of Thomas Hardy
(1928)