discomfited

To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday, at twelve o’clock at night.

‘Is there anybody here for a yoongster booked in the name of Murdstone, from Bloonderstone, Sooffolk, to be left till called for?’

He was so peaceful and resigned—clearly had his affairs in such perfect train, and so systematically wound up—that he was a man to feel touched in the contemplation of.

by inspecting the Tower of London; and going to the top of St. Paul’s.

I think of every little trifle between me and Dora, and feel the truth, that trifles make the sum of life.

‘what a troublesome world this is, when one has the most right to expect it to be as agreeable as possible!’

All is over. The devotion of a life — it seems a life, it is all the same—is at an end;

He was but a poor man himself, said Peggotty, but as good as gold and as true as steel—those were her similes.