Any Man May Be In Good Spirits

Thus, It Comes To Pass, That A Certain Room In A Certain Old Hall, Where A Certain Bad Lord, Baronet, Knight, Or Gentleman, Shot Himself, Has Certain Planks In The Floor From Which The Blood Will Not Be Taken Out. You May Scrape And Scrape, As The Present Owner Has Done, Or Plane And Plane, As His Father Did, Or Scrub And Scrub, As His Grandfather Did, Or Burn And Burn With Strong Acids, As His Great-grandfather Did, But, There The Blood Will Still Be - No Redder And No Paler - No More And No Less - Always Just The Same.

The Meagre Lighthouse All In White, Haunting The Seaboard, As If It Were The Ghost Of An Edifice That Had Once Had Colour And Rotundity, Dripped Melancholy Tears After Its Late Buffeting By The Waves.

I Never Had One Hour's Happiness In Her Society, And Yet My Mind All Round The Four-and-twenty Hours Was Harping On The Happiness Of Having Her With Me Unto Death.

Wen You're A Married Man, Samivel, You'll Understand A Good Many Things As You Don't Understand Now; But Vether It's Worth While Goin' Through So Much To Learn So Little, As The Charity-boy Sand Ven He Go To The End Of The Alphabet, It's A Matter Of Taste.

I Could Settle Down Into A State Of Equable Low Spirits, And Resign Myself To Coffee.