Oliver Twist Has Asked For More!

It Was Understood That Nothing Of A Tender Nature Could Possibly Be Confided To Old Barley, By Reason Of His Being Totally Unequal To The Consideration Of Any Subject More Psychological Than Gout, Rum, And Purser's Stores.

If The World Go Wrong, It Was, In Some Off-hand Manner, Never Meant To Go Right.

It Was The Best Of Times, It Was The Worst Of Times, It Was The Age Of Wisdom, It Was The Age Of Foolishness, It Was The Epoch Of Belief, It Was The Epoch Of Incredulity, It Was The Season Of Light, It Was The Season Of Darkness, It Was The Spring Of Hope, It Was The Winter Of Despair.

Some Philosophers Tell Us That Selfishness Is At The Root Of Our Best Loves And Affections. Mr. Dombey's Young Child Was, From The Beginning, So Distinctly Important To Him As A Part Of His Own Greatness, Or (which Is The Same Thing) Of The Greatness Of Dombey And Son, That There Is No Doubt His Parental Affection Might Have Been Easily Traced, Like Many A Goodly Superstructure Of Fair Fame, To A Very Low Foundation.

You Are Part Of My Existence, Part Of Myself. You Have Been In Every Line I Have Ever Read, Since I First Came Here, The Rough Common Boy Whose Poor Heart You Wounded Even Then. You Have Been In Every Prospect I Have Ever Seen Since-on The River, On The Sails Of The Ships, On The Marshes, In The Clouds, In The Light, In The Darkness, In The Wind, In The Woods, In The Sea, In The Streets. You Have Been The Embodiment Of Every Graceful Fancy That My Mind Has Ever Become Acquainted With.