It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.

Mr. Sherlock Holmes, who was usually very late in the mornings, save upon those not infrequent occasions when he was up all night, was seated at the breakfast table.

My father’s family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip.

You don’t know about me without you have read a book by the name of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; but that ain’t no matter.

The Time Traveller (for so it will be convenient to speak of him) was expounding a recondite matter to us.

In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.