Book: The life of David Copperfield, told by himself

After each phrase of miss Betsy shook her head, as if she were choking memories of her own past grievances and she with an effort of will suppressed the desire to hint at them more clearly.

Perhaps the reader is too curious to know, how sad to postpone the pen, when two-year-old imagination work completed; or that the author fancies that he releases into the shadowy world ourselves, when a crowd of living beings created by the power of his mind, forever moving away. Nevertheless, I have nothing to add; unless it would be necessary to admit (although perhaps this is not so much) that no one is able reading this story, to believe in it more than I did when I wrote it.

Maybe it is only an illusion, but it seems to me, most people store memories of bygone days, much more distant than we assume; and I believe that the ability to observe many very young children truly amazing - she is so strong and so obvious. Moreover, I think that most adults that have this property, it is safe to say that they bought it, but retained from childhood; I usually happened to notice such people have mental freshness, kindness and ability to enjoy life, which is also an inheritance, which they have not spent since childhood.

Again winter came; fresh, cold, windy day and stretched in front of me plain had raised my hopes.

What was I to do, how not to drain kisses her tears and not to say that I am madly in love with her?

Our lunch was like a dinner of cannibals - so bloody coloring was wearing our talk.

Although the girl's face was joyful and cheerful, but there was some sort of peace, and the same calm, she poured around, and she was like a spirit of peace and tranquility, a good spirit, which I have never since forgot. And I will never forget.

I shall never forget the feelings of loneliness that overwhelmed me when I first went to sleep under the open sky.

Past steal your time. Grab him by the collar!

Why didn't I die then? How I wish I could die in that moment, when my heart was overflowing! More than ever I were worthy of this minute to be taken to heaven.

This picture is so memorable to me that, if I were a draughtsman I could, I think, accurately portray her: baby Amli falls to his death (so I thought), eyes looking to the open sea, and the look on her face I will never forget.