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joelhenrylittle 's review for:
Our Mutual Friend
by Charles Dickens
“A little more, and again it roared across the river, a great rocket: spurning the watery turnings and doubling with ineffable contempt, and going straight to its end, as Father Time goes to his. To whom it is no matter what living waters run high or low, reflect the heavenly lights and darknesses, produce their little growth of weeds and flowers, turn here, turn there, are noisy or still, are troubled or at rest, for their course had one sure termination, though their sources and devices are many.”