There Are Books Of Which The Backs

... As To Sleep, You Know, I Never Sleep Now. I Might Be A Watchman, Except That I Don't Get Any Pay, And He's Got Nothing On His Mind.

"vell," Said Mr. Weller, "now I S'pose He'll Want To Call Some Witnesses To Speak To His Character, Or P'raps To Prove A Alleybi. I've Been A Turnin' The Bis'ness Over In My Mind, And He May Make His-self Easy, Sammy. I've Got Some Friends As'll Do Either For Him, But My Adwice 'ud Be This Here-never Mind The Character, And Stick To The Alleybi. Nothing Like A Alleybi, Sammy, Nothing."

Crush Humanity Out Of Shape Once More, Under Similar Hammers, And It Will Twist Itself Into The Same Tortured Forms. Sow The Same Seeds Of Rapacious Licence And Oppression Over Again, And It Will Surely Yield The Same Fruit According To Its Kind.

She Was Truest To Them In The Season Of Trial, As All The Quietly Loyal And Good Will Always Be.

. . . In Seclusion, She Had Secluded Herself From A Thousand Natural And Healing Influences; That, Her Mind, Brooding Solitary, Had Grown Diseased, As All Minds Do And Must And Will That Reverse The Appointed Order Of Their Maker . . .