Bring In The Bottled Lightning,

We Must Leave The Discovery Of This Mystery, Like All Others, To Time, And Accident, And Heaven's Pleasure.

Marley Was Dead: To Begin With.

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.

It Is A Fair, Even-handed, Noble Adjustment Of Things, That While There Is Infection In Disease And Sorrow, There Is Nothing In The World So Irresistibly Contagious As Laughter And Good Humour.

The Pain Of Parting Is Nothing To The Joy Of Meeting Again.