"You young dog. What fat cheeks you ha' got!" --Magwich addressing Pip. Chapter One.

"...you staring great stuck pig." Mrs. Joe to Joe. Chapter Two.

"If you'd been born a Squeaker--"
"He was, if ever a child was."--Mr. Pumblechook and Mrs. Joe, regarding Pip. Chapter Four.

"You little coarse monster, what do you think of me now?"--Estella to Pip, right after slapping him. Yeah! Chapter Six.

"Why don't you cry again, you little wretch?"--Estella, once again putting Pip in his place. Chapter Six.

"And I couldn't be a match for the rogues, without being a match for you, who are the blackest looking and worst rogue between this and France!"--Mrs. Joe, snapping on Orlick. Chapter 15.

"You're a foul shrew, Mother Gargery."--Orlick to Mrs. Joe. Perhaps we should add "Oedipal complex" to his list of faults. Chapter 15.

"Good God! Are infants to be nutcrackered into their tombs, and is nobody to save them?"--Matthew Pocket reacts to a little child neglect on his wife's part. Chapter 23.

"What right have you to be merry? You're poor enough."--Poor enough for what? Scrooge spreads a little holiday cheer to his nephew. Chapter One.

"If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart!"--Scrooge. Chapter One.

"Many can't go [to prisons and workhouses]; and many would rather die."
"If they would rather die, they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population."--Scrooge explains his philosphy to the gentlemen collecting for charity. See, I told you he was a right bastard. Chapter One.

"You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, what ever you are!"--Scrooge to Marley's ghost. Lovely imagery, that. Chapter One.

It was a game called Yes and No, where Scrooge's nephew had to think of something, and the rest must find out what; he only answering to their questions yes or no, as the case was. The brisk fire of questioning to which he was exposed elicited from his that he was thinking of an animal, a live animal, a rather disagreeable animal, a savage animal, an animal that growled and grunted sometimes, and talked sometimes, and lived in London, and walked about the streets, and wasn't led by anybody, and didn't live ina menagerie, and was never killed a a market, and was not a horse, or an ass, or a cow, or a bull, or a tiger, or a dog, or a pig, or a cat, or a bear. At every fresh question that was put to him this nephew burst into a fresh roar of laughter, and was so inexpressively tickled, that he was obliged to get up off the sofa and stamp. At last the plump sister, falling into a similar state, cried out:--
"I have found it! I know what it is, Fred! I know what it is!"
"What is it?" cried Fred.
"It's your uncle Scro-o-o-o-oge!"
Which it certainly was.--Chapter Three.