Hours Are Golden Links--god's Tokens

Mrs. Boffin And Me, Ma'am, Are Plain People, And We Don't Want To Pretend To Anything, Nor Yet To Go Round And Round At Anything Because There's Always A Straight Way To Everything.

Along The Paris Streets, The Death-carts Rumble, Hollow And Harsh. Six Tumbrils Carry The Day's Wine To La Guillotine.

You Have No Idea What It Is To Have Anybody Wonderful Fond Of You, Unless You Have Been Got Down And Rolled Upon By The Lonely Feelings That I Have Mentioned As Having Once Got The Better Of Me.

It Was A Dagger In The Haughty Father's Heart, An Arrow In His Brain, To See How The Flesh And Blood He Could Not Disown Clung To This Obscure Stranger, And He Sitting By. Not That He Cared To Whom His Daughter Turned, Or From Whom Turned Away. The Swift Sharp Agony Struck Through Him, As He Thought Of What His Son Might Do.

A Man Must Take The Fat With The Lean.