If There Were No Bad People, There

A Commission Of Haberdashers Could Alone Have Reported What The Rest Of Her Poor Dress Was Made Of, But It Had A Strong General Resemblance To Seaweed, With Here And There A Gigantic Tea-leaf. Her Shawl Looked Particularly Like A Tea-leaf After Long Infusion.

It Would Have Been Cruel In Miss Havisham, Horribly Cruel, To Practise On The Susceptibility Of A Poor Boy, And To Torture Me Through All These Years With A Vain Hope And An Idle Pursuit, If She Had Reflected On The Gravity Of What She Did. But I Think She Did Not. I Think That In The Endurance Of Her Own Trial, She Forgot Mine, Estella.

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

There Was Something Very Comfortable In Having Plenty Of Stationery.

The Word Of A Gentleman Is As Good As His Bond — Sometimes Better; As In The Present Case, Where His Bond Might Prove But A Doubtful Sort Of Security.