Scattered Wits Take A Long Time In

Life Is Made Of Ever So Many Partings Welded Together.

The Clouds Were Drifting Over The Moon At Their Giddiest Speed, At One Time Wholly Obscuring Her, At Another, Suffering Her To Burst Forth In Full Splendor And Shed Her Light On All The Objects Around; Anon, Driving Over Her Again, With Increased Velocity, And Shrouding Everything In Darkness.

'there May Be Some, Perhaps - I Don't Know That There Are - Who Abuse His Kindness,' Said Mr. Wickfield. 'never Be One Of Those, Trotwood, In Anything. He Is The Least Suspicious Of Mankind; And Whether That's A Merit, Or Whether It's A Blemish, It Deserves Consideration In All Dealings With The Doctor, Great Or Small.

It Was The Best Of Times, It Was The Worst Of Times.

Why Then We Should Drop Into Poetry.