If there be an existence of wretchedness on earth it must be that of the elderly, worn-out roué, who has run this race of debt and bills of accommodation and acceptances, — of what, if we were not in these days somewhat afraid of good broad English, we might call lying and swindling, falsehood and fraud — and who, having ruined all whom he should have loved, having burnt up every one who would trust him much, and scorched all who would trust him a little, is at last left to finish his life with such bread and water as these men get, without one honest thought to strengthen his sinking heart, or one honest friend to hold his shivering hand!
— From Anthony Trollope’s Framley Parsonage