There Are Books Of Which

I Found Uriah Reading A Great Fat Book, With Such Demonstrative Attention, That His Lank Forefinger Followed Up Every Line As He Read, And Made Clammy Tracks Along The Page (or So I Fully Believed) Like A Snail.

I Wear The Chains I Forged In Life.

Old Marley Was Dead As A Doornail... The Wisdom Of Our Ancestors Is In The Simile.

Moths, And All Sorts Of Ugly Creatures, Hover About A Lighted Candle. Can The Candle Help It?

...and To-morrow Looked In My Face More Steadily Than I Could Look At It