Meow Says The Cat ,quack Says The

Mr. Tulkinghorn, Sitting In The Twilight By The Open Window, Enjoys His Wine. As If It Whispered To Him Of Its Fifty Years Of Silence And Seclusion, It Shuts Him Up The Closer. More Impenetrable Than Ever, He Sits, And Drinks, And Mellows As It Were In Secrecy, Pondering At That Twilight Hour On All The Mysteries He Knows.

The Man Who Now Confronted Gashford, Was A Squat, Thickset Personage, With A Low, Retreating Forehead, A Coarse Shock Head Of Hair, And Eyes So Small And Near Together, That His Broken Nose Alone Seemed To Prevent Their Meeting And Fusing Into One Of The Usual Size.

If You Can't Get To Be Oncommon Through Going Straight, You'll Never Get To Do It Through Going Crooked. So Don't Tell No More On 'em, Pip, And Live Well And Die Happy.

Have I Yet To Learn That The Hardest And Best-borne Trials Are Those Which Are Never Chronicled In Any Earthly Record, And Are Suffered Every Day!

Oh, A Dainty Plant Is The Ivy Green, That Creepeth O'er Ruins Old! Of Right Choice Food Are His Meals, I Ween, In His Cell So Lone And Cold. Creeping Where No Life Is Seen, A Rare Old Plant Is The Ivy Green.