A bellyful is a bellyful.

Indeed, said the monk, a mass, a matins, and vespers well rung are half-said.

I know of a charm by way of a prayer that will preserve a man from the violence of guns and all manner of fire-weapons and engines but it will do me no good because I do not believe it

The farce is finished. I go to seek a vast perhaps.

Ignorance is the mother of all evils.

The most Christian France is the sole wet-nurse to the Roman court.

Few and signally blessed are those whom Jupiter has destined to be cabbage-planters. For they've always one foot on the ground andthe other not far from it. Anyone is welcome to argue about felicity and supreme happiness. But the man who plants cabbages I now positively declare to be the happiest of mortals.