Trifles Make The Sum Of Life.

"madam," Replied Mr. Micawber, "it Is My Intention To Register Such A Vow On The Virgin Page Of The Future."

Let The Tears Which Fell, And The Broken Words Which Were Exchanged In The Long Close Embrace Between The Orphans, Be Sacred. A Father, Sister, And Mother, Were Gained, And Lost, In That One Moment. Joy And Grief Were Mingled In The Cup; But There Were No Bitter Tears: For Even Grief Arose So Softened, And Clothed In Such Sweet And Tender Recollections, That It Became A Solemn Pleasure, And Lost All Character Of Pain.

Every Baby Born Into The World Is A Finer One Than The Last.

I Have A Heart To Be Stabbed In Or Shot In, I Have No Doubt, And, Of Course, If It Ceased To Beat, I Would Cease To Be. But You Know What I Mean. I Have No Softness There, No—sympathy—sentiment—nonsense.

All Other Swindlers Upon Earth Are Nothing To The Self-swindlers, And With Such Pretences Did I Cheat Myself.