... one always believes one's own town to be more stupid than any other.
Blows are sarcasms turned stupid.
In every parting there is an image of death.
Death is the only physician, the shadow of his valley the only journeying that will cure us of age and the gathering fatigue of years.
That's what a man wants in a wife, mostly; he wants to make sure one fool tells him he's wise.
Them as ha' never had a cushion don't miss it.