Five-and-twenty years ago, where was there a girl like her?
A gay, handsome, laughing, bright-eyed damsel! Think what she was, sir.

It makes my heart ache now, even now, though I'm an old man, with a woman for a daughter, to think what she was and what she is.
We all change, but that's with Time; Time does his work honestly, and I don't mind him.

A fig for Time, sir.

Use him well, and he's a hearty fellow, and scorns to have you at a disadvantage.

But care and suffering (and those have changed her) are devils, sir--secret, stealthy, undermining devils--who tread down the brightest flowers in Eden, and do more havoc in a month than Time does in a year.