Bleak, dark, and piercing cold, it was a night for the well-housed and fed to draw round the bright fire, and thank God they were at home; and for the homeless starving wretch to lay him down and die. Many hunger-worn outcasts close their eyes in our bare streets at such times, who, let their crimes have been what they may, can hardly open them in a more bitter world.

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.

You touch some of the reasons for my going, not for my staying away.

You might, from your appearance, be the wife of Lucifer,” said Miss Pross, in her breathing. “Nevertheless, you shall not get the better of me. I am an Englishwoman.

By the by, who ever knew a man who never read or wrote neither who hadn't got some small back parlour which he would call a study!

I think it impossible, utterly impossible, for any Englishman to live here [in America], and be happy.

Although I am an old man, night is generally my time for walking.