No one ever regarded the first of January with indifference.

Merit, God knows, is very little rewarded.

A pun is not bound by the laws which limit nicer wit. It is a pistol let off at the ear; not a feather to tickle the intellect.

I am Retired Leisure. I am to be met with in trim gardens. I am already come to be known by my vacant face and careless gesture, perambulating at no fixed pace nor with any settled purpose. I walk about; not to and from.

I give thee all,-I can no more, Though poor the off'ring be; My heart and lute are all the store That I can bring to thee.

Anything awful makes me laugh. I misbehaved once at a funeral.

There are like to be short graces where the devil plays host.