Charles Dickens

Horatio looked handsomely miserable, like Hamlet slipping on a
piece of orange-peel.

Horatio looked handsomely miserable, like Hamlet slipping on a
piece of orange-peel.

"It wasn't the wine," murmured Mr. Snodgrass in a broken voice,
"it was the salmon."

"It wasn't the wine," murmured Mr. Snodgrass in a broken voice,
"it was the salmon."

Secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster.

Secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster.

He would make a lovely corpse.

He would make a lovely corpse.

"Brooks of Sheffield": "'Somebody's sharp.' 'Who is?'" asked the
gentleman, laughing. I looked up quickly, being curious to know. read more

"Brooks of Sheffield": "'Somebody's sharp.' 'Who is?'" asked the
gentleman, laughing. I looked up quickly, being curious to know.
"Only Brooks of Sheffield," said Mr. Murdstone. I was glad to
find it was only Brooks of Sheffield; for at first I really
thought that it was I.