My dear sir, this is a very great country, a very great country. Its system of equity is a very great system, a very great system. Really, really!
… bringing here, and taking everywhere, her own dense atmosphere of dust, arising from the ceaseless working of her mill of jealousy.
Call the death by any name your Highness will, attribute it to whom you will, or say it might have been prevented how you will, it is the same death eternally–inborn, inbred, engendered in the corrupted humours of the vicious body itself, and that only–spontaneous combustion, and none other of all the deaths that can be died.
Mrs. Rouncewell holds this opinion because she considers that a family of such antiquity and importance has a right to a ghost. She regards a ghost as one of the privileges of the upper classes, a genteel distinction to which the common people have no claim.
He was very fond of reading the papers, very fond of making fancy-sketches with a pencil, very fond of nature, very fond of art. All he asked of society was to let him live. THAT wasn’t much. His wants were few. Give him the papers, conversation, music, mutton, coffee, landscape, fruit in the season, a few sheets of Bristol-board, and a little claret, and he asked no more. He was a mere child in the world, but he didn’t cry for the moon.
He is of what is called the old school – a phrase generally meaing any school that seems never to have been young.