The Cloud Of Caring For

Some Women's Faces Are, In Their Brightness, A Prophecy; And Some, In Their Sadness, A History.

For The Rest Of His Life, Oliver Twist Remembers A Single Word Of Blessing Spoken To Him By Another Child Because This Word Stood Out So Strikingly From The Consistent Discouragement Around Him.

Poor Mr. Pickwick! ... If He Played A Wrong Card, Miss Bolo Looked A Small Armoury Of Daggers; If He Stopped To Consider Which Was The Right One, Lady Snuphanuph Would Throw Herself Back In Her Chair, And Smile With A Mingled Glance Of Impatience And Pity To Mrs. Colonel Wugsby, At Which Mrs. Colonel Wugsby Would Shrug Up Her Shoulders, And Cough, As Much As To Say She Wondered Whether He Ever Would Begin.

But, Tears Were Not The Things To Find Their Way To Mr. Bumble's Soul; His Heart Was Waterproof.

I Could Settle Down Into A State Of Equable Low Spirits, And Resign Myself To Coffee.