I Have Made Up My Mind That

I Know Enough Of The World Now To Have Almost Lost The Capacity Of Being Much Surprised By Anything

He Says-him As Was Here Just Now-'when Tom Shut Up The House, Mate, To Go To Rack, The Beds Was Left, All Made, Like As If Somebody Was A-going To Sleep In Every Bed. And If You Was To Walk Through The Bedrooms Now, You'd See The Ragged Mouldy Bedclothes A Heaving And A Heaving Like Seas. And A Heaving And A Heaving With What?' He Says. 'why, With The Rats Under 'em.'

The Law Is An Ass, An Idiot.

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.

He Was The Meekest Of His Sex, The Mildest Of Little Men. He Sidled In And Out Of A Room, To Take Up The Less Space. He Walked As Softly As The Ghost In Hamlet, And More Slowly. He Carried His Head On One Side, Partly In Modest Depreciation Of Himself, Partly In Modest Propitiation Of Everybody Else.