I Can Never Close My Lips Where

Are There No Prisons?

Of All The Ruinous And Desolate Places My Uncle Had Ever Beheld, This Was The Most So. It Looked As If It Had Once Been A Large House Of Entertainment; But The Roof Had Fallen In, In Many Places, And The Stairs Were Steep, Rugged, And Broken. There Was A Huge Fire-place In The Room Into Which They Walked, And The Chimney Was Blackened With Smoke; But No Warm Blaze Lighted It Up Now. The White Feathery Dust Of Burnt Wood Was Still Strewed Over The Hearth, But The Stove Was Cold, And All Was Dark And Gloomy.

It Is, As Mr. Rokesmith Says, A Matter Of Feeling, But Lor How Many Matters Are Matters Of Feeling!

Dombey And Son Had Often Dealt In Hides, But Never In Hearts. They Left That Fancy Ware To Boys And Girls, And Boarding-schools And Books. Mr. Dombey Would Have Reasoned: That A Matrimonial Alliance With Himself Must, In The Nature Of Things, Be Gratifying And Honourable To Any Woman Of Common Sense. That The Hope Of Giving Birth To A New Partner In Such A House, Could Not Fail To Awaken A Glorious And Stirring Ambition In The Breast Of The Least Ambitious Of Her Sex.

There Are Very Few Moments In A Man's Existence When He Experiences So Much Ludicrous Distress, Or Meets With So Little Charitable Commiseration, As When He Is In Pursuit Of His Own Hat.