He Had A Certain Air Of Being

This Fine Young Man Had All The Inclination To Be A Profligate Of The First Water, And Only Lacked The One Good Trait In The Common Catalogue Of Debauched Vices - Open-handedness - To Be A Notable Vagabond. But There His Griping And Penurious Habits Stepped In; And As One Poison Will Sometimes Neutralise Another, When Wholesome Remedies Would Not Avail, So He Was Restrained By A Bad Passion From Quaffing His Full Measure Of Evil, When Virtue Might Have Sought To Hold Him Back In Vain.

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.

Dickens Writes That An Event, "began To Be Forgotten, As Most Affairs Are, When Wonder, Having No Fresh Food To Support It, Dies Away Of Itself.

What Connexion Can There Be, Between The Place In Lincolnshire, The House In Town, The Mercury In Powder, And The Whereabout Of Jo The Outlaw With The Broom, Who Had That Distant Ray Of Light Upon Him When He Swept The Churchyard-step? What Connexion Can There Have Been Between Many People In The Innumerable Histories Of This World, Who, From Opposite Sides Of Great Gulfs, Have, Nevertheless, Been Very Curiously Brought Together!

It Is One Of Those Problems Of Human Nature, Which May Be Noted Down, But Not Solved; - Although Ralph Felt No Remorse At That Moment For His Conduct Towards The Innocent, True-hearted Girl; Although His Libertine Clients Had Done Precisely What He Had Expected, Precisely What He Most Wished, And Precisely What Would Tend Most To His Advantage, Still He Hated Them For Doing It, From The Very Bottom Of His Soul.