... As To Sleep, You Know, I

I Was Always Treated As If I Had Insisted On Being Born, In Opposition To The Dictates Of Reason, Religion, And Morality, And Against The Dissuadinig Arguments Of My Best Friends.

She Was The Most Wonderful Woman For Prowling About The House. How She Got From One Story To Another Was A Mystery Beyond Solution. A Lady So Decorous In Herself, And So Highly Connected, Was Not To Be Suspected Of Dropping Over The Banisters Or Sliding Down Them, Yet Her Extraordinary Facility Of Locomotion Suggested The Wild Idea.

"it Wasn't The Wine," Murmured Mr. Snodgrass, In A Broken Voice. "it Was The Salmon."

He Was Touched In The Cavity Where His Heart Should Have Been, In That Nest Of Addled Eggs, Where The Birds Of Heaven Would Have Lived If They Had Not Been Whistled Away, By The Fervour Of This Reproach.

Rattle Me Out Of Bed Early, Set Me Going, Give Me As Short A Time As You Like To Bolt My Meals In, And Keep Me At It. Keep Me Always At It, And I'll Keep You Always At It, You Keep Somebody Else Always At It. There You Are With The Whole Duty Of Man In A Commercial Country.