Old Marley was dead as a doornail... The wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile.

We part with tender relations stretching far behind us, that never can be exactly renewed, and with others dawning - yet before us.

How beautiful you are! You are more beautiful in anger than in repose. I don't ask you for your love; give me yourself and your hatred; give me yourself and that pretty rage; give me yourself and that enchanting scorn; it will be enough for me.

... she indulged in melancholy - that cheapest and most accessible of luxuries.

We must scrunch or be scrunched.

"We will wait," answered little Alice, taking Nettie's hand in hers, and looking up to the sky, "we will wait - ever constant and true - till the times have got so changed as that everything helps us out, and nothing makes us ridiculous, and the fairies have come back. We will wait - ever constant and true - till we are eighty, ninety, or one hundred. And then the fairies will send US children, and we will help them out, poor pretty little creatures, if they pretend ever so much."

I ate 'umble pie with an appetite.