And, Unlike The Celebrated Herd In The

Shall We Speak Of The Inspiration Of A Poet Or A Priest, And Not Of The Heart Impelled By Love And Self-devotion To The Lowliest Work In The Lowliest Way Of Life?

We Know, Mr. Weller - We, Who Are Men Of The World - That A Good Uniform Must Work Its Way With The Women, Sooner Or Later.

It Would Have Been Cruel In Miss Havisham, Horribly Cruel, To Practise On The Susceptibility Of A Poor Boy, And To Torture Me Through All These Years With A Vain Hope And An Idle Pursuit, If She Had Reflected On The Gravity Of What She Did. But I Think She Did Not. I Think That In The Endurance Of Her Own Trial, She Forgot Mine, Estella.

There Have Been Occasions In My Later Life (i Suppose As In Most Lives) When I Have Felt For A Time As If A Thick Curtain Had Fallen On All Its Interest And Romance, To Shut Me Out From Anything Save Dull Endurance Any More. Never Has That Curtain Dropped So Heavy And Blank, As When My Way In Life Lay Stretched Out Straight Before Me Through The Newly-entered Road Of Apprenticeship To Joe.

Man Cannot Really Improve Himself Without Improving Others.