Poor Mr. Pickwick! . . . If he played a wrong card, Miss Bolo looked a small armoury of daggers; if he stopped to consider which was the right one, Lady Snuphanuph would throw herself back in her chair, and smile with a mingled glance of impatience and pity to Mrs. Colonel Wugsby, at which Mrs. Colonel Wugsby would shrug up her shoulders, and cough, as much as to say she wondered whether he ever would begin. Then, at the end of every hand, Miss Bolo would inquire with a dismal countenance and reproachful sigh, why Mr. Pickwick had not returned that diamond, or led the club, or roughed the spade, or finessed the heart, or led through the honour, or brought out the ace, or played up to the king, or some such thing; and in reply to all these grave charges, Mr. Pickwick would be wholly unable to plead any justification whatever, having by this time forgotten all about the game. ~ The Pickwick Papers
But, tears were not the
But, tears were not the things to find their way to Mr. Bumble’s soul; his heart was waterproof. ~ Oliver Twist
“I love you, love you,
“I love you, love you, love you! If you were to cast me off now – but you will not – you would never be rid of me. No one should come between us. I would pursue you to the death.” ~ The Mystery of Edwin Drood
It was the beginning of
It was the beginning of a day in June; the deep blue sky unsullied by a cloud, and teeming with brilliant light. The streets were, as yet, nearly free from passengers, the houses and shops were closed, and the healthy air of morning fell like breath from angels, on the sleeping town. ~ The Old Curiosity Shop
Natural affections and instincts
“Natural affections and instincts, my dear sir, are the most beautiful of the Almighty’s works, but like other beautiful works of His, they must be reared and fostered, or it is as natural that they should be wholly obscured, and that new feelings should usurp their place, as it is that the sweetest productions of the earth, left untended, should be choked with weeds and briers. I wish we could be brought to consider this, and remembering natural obligations a little more at the right time, talk about them a little less at the wrong one.” ~ Nicholas Nickleby
“Vell,” said Mr. Weller, “Now
“Vell,” said Mr. Weller, “Now I s’pose he’ll want to call some witnesses to speak to his character, or p’raps to prove a alleybi. I’ve been a turnin’ the bis’ness over in my mind, and he may make his-self easy, Sammy. I’ve got some friends as’ll do either for him, but my adwice ‘ud be this here–never mind the character, and stick to the alleybi. Nothing like a alleybi, Sammy, nothing.” ~ The Pickwick Papers
The boy stirred, and smiled
The boy stirred, and smiled in his sleep, as though these marks of pity and compassion had awakened some pleasant dream of a love and affection he had never known. Thus, a strain of gentle music, or the rippling of water in a silent place, or the odour of a flower, or the mention of a familiar word, will sometimes call up sudden dim remembrances of scenes that never were, in this life; which vanish like a breath; which some brief memory of a happier existence, long gone by, would seem to have awakened; which no voluntary exertion of the mind can ever recall. ~ Oliver Twist
“Well,” said my aunt, “this
“Well,” said my aunt, “this is his boy – his son. He would be as like his father as it’s possible to be, if he was not so like his mother, too.” ~ David Copperfield
“I will not retire,” cried
“I will not retire,” cried Kate, with flashing eyes and the red blood mantling in her cheeks. “You will do him no hurt that he will not repay. You may use force with me; I think you will, for I am a girl, and that would well become you. But if I have a girl’s weakness, I have a woman’s heart, and it is not you who in a cause like this can turn that from its purpose.” ~ Nicholas Nickleby
“Circumstances may accumulate so strongly
“Circumstances may accumulate so strongly even against an innocent man, that directed, sharpened, and pointed, they may slay him.” ~ The Mystery of Edwin Drood
