“The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panesThe yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panesLicked its tongue into the corners of the eveningLingered upon the pools that stand in drainsLet fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneysSlipped by the terrace, made a sudden leapAnd seeing that it was a soft October nightCurled once about the house, and fell asleep”

“And indeed there will be time for the yellow smoke that slides along the street rubbing its back upon the window-panes; there will be time , there will be time to prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; there will be time to murder and create, and time for all the works and days of hands that lift and drop a question on your plate; time for you and time for me, and time yet for a hundred indecisions, and for a hundred visions and revisions, before the taking of toast and tea.”

“[John Jarndyce] rubbed his head so constantly that not a single hair upon it ever rested in its right place”

“A birdie with a yellow billHoped upon the window sill,Cocked his shining eye and said:'Ain't you 'shamed, you sleepy-'ead?”

“A yellow fog swirls past the window-paneAs night descends upon the fabled street:A lonely hansom splashes through the rain,And ghostly gas lamps fail at twenty feet.Here though the world explode, these two survive,And it is always eighteen ninety-five.”

“Once upon a time there was aOnce upon a time there was aOnce upon a time there was aStop this. It's undignified.”