Come, said Mr. Bumble, somewhat less pompously, for it was gratifying — Oliver Twist

"A regular right-down bad un, Workus, replied Noah, coolly. And its a great deal better, Workus, that she died when she did, or else shed have been hard labouring in Bridewell, or transported, or hung; which is more likely than either, isnt it?"

"Dignity, and even holiness too, sometimes, are more questions of coat and waistcoat than some people imagine."

"If the law supposes that," said Mr. Bumble, squeezing his hat emphatically in both hands, "the law is a ass — a idiot. If thats the eye of the law, the law is a bachelor; and the worst I wish the law is, that his eye may be opened by experience — by experience."

"The fact is, that there was considerable difficulty in inducing Oliver to take upon himself the office of respiration, — a troublesome practice, but one which custom has rendered necessary to our easy existence, — and for some time he lay gasping on a little flock mattress, rather unequally poised between this world and the next: the balance being decidedly in favor of the latter. Now, if, during this brief period, Oliver had been surrounded by careful grandmothers, anxious aunts, experienced nurses, and doctors of profound wisdom, he would most inevitably and indubitably have been killed in no time."

"Please, sir, I want some more."

"There is a passion for hunting something deeply implanted in the human breast."