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It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age
of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of
belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light,
it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it
was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had
nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we
were all going direct the other way--in short, the period was so.
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On an evening in the latter part of May a middle-aged man was walking homeward from Shaston to the village of
Marlott, in the adjoining Vale of Blakemore or Blackmoor.
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Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow
that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo.
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It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession
of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
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A wide plain, where the broadening Floss hurries on between its green banks to the sea, and the
loving tide, rushing to meet it, checks its passage with an impetuous embrace.
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1801-- I have just returned from a visit to my landlord -- the solitary
neighbor that I shall be troubled with.
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My father's family name being Pirrip, and my christian name Philip,
my infant tongue could make of both names nothing
longer or more explicit than Pip.
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Ursula and Gudrun Brangwen sat one morning in the window-bay of their father's house in Beldover,
working and talking.
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Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether
that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show..
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The day broke gray and dull.
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Now, what I want is Facts.
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There was no possibility of taking a walk that day.
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In the days when the spinning-wheels hummed busily in the farmhouses -- and even great ladies,
clothed in silk and thread-lace, had their toy spinning-wheels of polished oak -- there might be seen in
districts far away among the lanes, or deep in the bosom of the hills, certain pallid undersized men,
who, by the side of the brawny country-folk, looked like the remnants of a disinherited race.
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Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home
and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings
of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world
with very little to distress or vex her.
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While the present century was in its teens, and on one sunshiny morning in June,
there drove up to the great iron gate of Miss Pinkerton's academy for young ladies,
on Chiswick Mall, a large family coach, with two fat horses in blazing harness, driven
by a fat coachman in a three cornered hat and wig, at the rate of four miles an hour.
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This is the saddest story I have ever heard.
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Except for the Marabar Caves - and they are twenty miles off - the city of Chandrapore presents nothing extraordinary.
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This is the story of what a Woman's patience can endure, and what a Man's resolution can
achieve.
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When I reached C Company lines, which were at the top of the hill, I paused and
looked back at the camp, just coming into full view before me through the grey
mist of early morning
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As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place where was a Den, and I
laid me down in that place to sleep: and, as I slept, I dreamed a dream.
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