Mankind Was My Business... Charity, Mercy, Forbearance,

I Only Ask To Be Free. The Butterflies Are Free. Mankind Will Surely Not Deny To Harold Skimpole What It Concedes To The Butterflies.

I Don't Suppose There's A Man Going, As Possesses The Fondness For Youth That I Do. There's Youth To The Amount Of Eight Hundredpound A-year, At Dotheboys Hall At This Present Time. I'd Take Sixteen Hundred Pound Worth, If I Could Get 'em, And Be As Fond Of Every Individual Twenty Pound Among 'em As Nothing Should Equal It!

Home Is A Name, A Word, It Is A Strong One.

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.

My Life Is One Demd Horrid Grind.