I Have A Heart To Be Stabbed

Dombey Sat In The Corner Of The Darkened Room In The Great Arm-chair By The Bedside, And Son Lay Tucked Up Warm In A Little Basket Bedstead, Carefully Disposed On A Low Settee Immediately In Front Of The Fire And Close To It, As If His Constitution Were Analogous To That Of A Muffin, And It Was Essential To Toast Him Brown While He Was Very New.

Reflect Upon Your Present Blessings Of Which Every Man Has Many - Not On Your Past Misfortunes, Of Which All Men Have Some.

Then, At The End Of Every Hand, Miss Bolo Would Inquire With A Dismal Countenance And Reproachful Sigh, Why Mr. Pickwick Had Not Returned That Diamond, Or Led The Club, Or Roughed The Spade, Or Finessed The Heart, Or Led Through The Honour, Or Brought Out The Ace, Or Played Up To The King, Or Some Such Thing; And In Reply To All These Grave Charges, Mr. Pickwick Would Be Wholly Unable To Plead Any Justification Whatever, Having By This Time Forgotten All About The Game.

Being That Rare Sort Of Old Girl That She Receives Good To Her Arms Without A Hint That It Might Be Better And Catches Light From Any Little Spot Of Darkness Near Her.

If You Could See My Legs When I Take My Boots Off, You'd Form Some Idea Of What Unrequited Affection Is.