I spent some quality time last weekend finishing A Tale of Two Cities. The last time I read it was my freshman year of high school. I’m not sure how much I actually understood of it back then.
Those who had been greedy with the staves of the cask, had acquired a tigerish smear about the mouth; and one tall joker so besmirched, his head more out of a long squalid bag of a nightcap than in it, scrawled upon a wall with his finger dipped in muddy wine-lees—BLOOD. The time was to come, when that wine too would be spilled on the street-stones, and when the stain of it would be red upon many there.