It Opens The Lungs, Washes The Countenance,

I Never Thought Before, That There Was A Woman In The World Who Could Affect Me So Much By Saying So Little. But Don't Be Hard In Your Construction Of Me. You Don't Know What My State Of Mind Towards You Is. You Don't Know How You Haunt And Bewilder Me. You Don't Know How The Cursed Carelessness That Is Over-officious In Helping Me At Every Other Turning Of My Life Won't Help Me Here. You Have Struck It Dead, I Think, And I Sometimes Wish You Had Struck Me Dead Along With It.

Yes. He Is Quite A Good Fellow - Nobody's Enemy But His Own.

It Has Always Been My Opinion Since I First Possessed Such A Thing As An Opinion, That The Man Who Knows Only One Subject Is Next Tiresome To The Man Who Knows No Subject. Therefore, In The Course Of My Life I Have Taught Myself Whatever I Could, And Although I Am Not An Educated Man, I Am Able, I Am Thankful To Say, To Have An Intelligent Interest In Most Things.

But Tears Were Not The Things To Find Their Way To Mr. Bumble’s Soul; His Heart Was Waterproof. Like Washable Beaver Hats That Improve With Rain, His Nerves Were Rendered Stouter And More Vigorous, By Showers Of Tears, Which, Being Tokens Of Weakness, And So Far Tacit Admissions Of His Own Power, Pleased And Exalted Him.

Are You Thankful For Not Being Young?' 'yes, Sir. If I Was Young, It Would All Have To Be Gone Through Again, And The End Would Be A Weary Way Off, Don't You See?