Two Cities “ London and Paris”

A story of two citiesIt was a century of knowledge and folly, of belief and disbelief, of light and darkness, and it was also the finest and worst of times. It was the winter of despair and the spring of hope. We were all going straight to heaven and straight in the opposite direction; in other words, the era was so unlike ours that, for better or worse, its loudest tone-setters only desired the highest degree of comparison to be applied to them.
We had everything; we had nothing ahead of us. The road to Dover was what the first character in our story had to cope with late one Friday in November, and it was also this road that the stagecoach from Dover wobbled up Shooter's Hill. Like everyone else beside the waggon, the person stomped uphill in the mud, not because going for a walk was particularly enjoyable in the given situation, but because the grade was so high, the harness so inconvenient, the dirt so deep, and the...
A story of two citiesIt was a century of knowledge and folly, of belief and disbelief, of light and darkness, and it was also the finest and worst of times. It was the winter of despair and the spring of hope. We were all going straight to heaven and straight in the opposite direction; in other words, the era was so unlike ours that, for better or worse, its loudest tone-setters only desired the highest degree of comparison to be applied to them.
We had everything; we had nothing ahead of us. The road to Dover was what the first character in our story had to cope with late one Friday in November, and it was also this road that the stagecoach from Dover wobbled up Shooter's Hill. Like everyone else beside the waggon, the person stomped uphill in the mud, not because going for a walk was particularly enjoyable in the given situation, but because the grade was so high, the harness so inconvenient, the dirt so deep, and the...