Life's a riddle; a most infernally hard riddle to guess, Mr Pecksniff.

My own opinions, that like that celebrated conundrum, "Why's a man in jail like a man out of jail ?" there's no answer to it.

Upon my soul and body, it's the queerest sort of thing altogether--but there's no use in talking about it.

Ha! Ha!' With which consolatory deduction from the gloomy premises recited, Mr Tigg roused himself by a great effort, and proceeded in his former strain.
'Now I'll tell you what it is.

I'm a most confoundedly soft-hearted kind of fellow in my way, and I cannot stand by, and see you two blades cutting each other's throats when there's nothing to be got by it.