The Bearings Of This Observation Lays In

"people Can't Die, Along The Coast," Said Mr. Peggotty, "except When The Tide's Pretty Nigh Out. They Can't Be Born, Unless It's Pretty Nigh In - Not Properly Born, Till Flood. He's A Going Out With The Tide. It's Ebb At Half-arter Three, Slack Water Half An Hour. If He Lives Till It Turns, He'll Hold His Own Till Past The Flood, And Go Out With The Next Tide."

Whether I Shall Turn Out To Be The Hero Of My Own Life, Or Whether That Station Will Be Held By Anybody Else, These Pages Must Show.

I Revere The Memory Of Mr. F. As An Estimable Man And Most Indulgent Husband, Only Necessary To Mention Asparagus And It Appeared Or To Hint At Any Little Delicate Thing To Drink And It Came Like Magic In A Pint Bottle; It Was Not Ecstasy But It Was Comfort.

Although A Man May Lose A Sense Of His Own Importance When He Is A Mere Unit Among A Busy Throng, All Utterly Regardless Of Him, It By No Means Follows That He Can Dispossess Himself, With Equal Facility, Of A Very Strong Sense Of The Importance And Magnitude Of His Cares.

" ... It Is Not My Desire To Wound The Feelings Of Any Person With Whom I Am Connected In Family Bonds. I May Be A Hypocrite," Said Mr. Pecksniff, Cuttingly, "but I Am Not A Brute."