Along the Paris streets, the death-carts rumble, hollow and harsh. Six tumbrils carry the day's wine to La Guillotine.
Charles DickensThe sergeant was describing a military life. It was all drinking, he said, except that there were frequent intervals of eating and love making.
Charles Dickens"It's nothing," returned Mrs Chick. "It's merely change of weather. We must expect change."
Charles DickensAnd when it has got in; as one not finding what it seeks, whatever that may be, it wails and howls to issue forth again: and not content with stalking through the aisles, and gliding round and round the pillars, and tempting the deep organ, soars up to the roof, and strives to rend the rafters: then flings itself despairingly upon the stones below, and passes, muttering, into the vaults.
Charles Dickens