My heart was seared once--ay, twice--and deeply, too.

I have no heart now, or if I ever feel at all it's for a horse.

I wonder how old Rainbow gets on.' 'You were sorry father let us come in the first time,' I said.

'How do you account for that, if you've no heart ?' 'Really! Well, listen, Richard.

Did I?
If you guillotine a man--cut off his head, as they do in France, with an axe that falls like the monkey of a pile-driver--the limbs quiver and stretch, and move almost naturally for a good while afterwards.