Charlottes WebE.

B White Wilbur the pig is being fattened for market, but his dear friend Charlotte, a beautiful grey spider, is determined to save him. Day after day the spider waited, head-down, for an idea to come to her. Hour by hour she sat motionless, deep in thought. Having promised Wilbur that she would save his life, she was determined to keep her promise. Charlotte was naturally patient. She knew from experience that if she waited long enough, a fly would come to her web; and she felt sure that if she thought long enough about Wilburs problem, an idea would come to her mind. Great Expectations Charles Dickens When Pip enters Satis house and encounters Miss Havisham for the first time It was not in the first moments that I saw all these things, though I saw more of them in the first moments that might be supposed. But I saw that everything within my view which ought to be white, had been white long ago and had lost its lustre, and was faded and yellow. I saw that the bride within the bridal dress had withered like the dress, and like the flowers, and had no brightness left but the brightness of her sunken eyes. I saw that the dress had been put upon the rounded figure of a young woman, and that the figure upon which it now hung loose, had shrunk to skin and bone. Once I had been taken to see some ghastly waxwork at the Fair, representing I know not what impossible personage lying in state. Once, I had been taken to one of our old marsh churches to see a skeleton in the ashes of a rich dress, that had been dug out of a vault under the church pavement. Now, waxwork and skeleton seemed to have dark eyes that moved and looked at me. Saving for the one weird smile at first, I should have felt almost sure that Miss Havishams face could not smile. It had dropped into a watchful and brooding expression most likely when all the things about her had become transfixed and it looked as if nothing could ever lift it up again. Pip on Estella Estella a scornful young lady neither visible not responsive, and feeling it a dreadful liberty so to roar out her last name, was almost as bad as playing to order. But she answered at last, and her light came along the long dark passage like a star.

Sherlock Holmes Sir Arthur Conan Doyle A Scandal in Bohemia Holmes, who loathed every form of society with his whole Bohemian soul, remained in our lodgings in Baker Street, buried among his old books, and alternating from week to week between cocaine and ambition, the drowsiness of the drug and the fierce energy of his own keen nature. [Holmes] was still, as ever, deeply attracted by the study of crime, and occupied his immense faculties and extraordinary powers of observation in following out those clues and clearing up those mysteries which had been abandoned as hopeless by the official police. (Bohemia.1.2).