Avay vith melincholly, as the little boy said ven his schoolmissus died. The Circumlocution Office2022-02-21T09:57:14+00:00Categories: The Pickwick Papers|Tags: Death| Read More
Tongue—, well that’s a wery good thing when it ain’t a woman’s. The Circumlocution Office2019-04-27T17:19:08+01:00Categories: The Pickwick Papers|Tags: Talking, Women| Read More
I took a good deal o’ pains with his eddication, sir; let him run in the streets when he was wery young, and shift for hisself. It’s the only way to make a boy sharp, sir. The Circumlocution Office2019-04-27T17:23:08+01:00Categories: The Pickwick Papers|Tags: Children, Education| Read More
It’s a wery remarkable circumstance, Sir, that poverty and oysters always seem to go together. The Circumlocution Office2019-04-11T15:22:29+01:00Categories: The Pickwick Papers|Tags: Food, Poverty| Read More
Poetry’s unnat’ral; no man ever talked poetry ‘cept a beadle on boxin’-day, or Warren’s blackin’, or Rowland’s oil, or some of them low fellows; never you let yourself down to talk poetry. The Circumlocution Office2019-04-27T17:19:25+01:00Categories: The Pickwick Papers|Tags: Poetry| Read More
