My childhood was full of deep sorrows - colic, whooping-cough, dread of ghosts, hell, Satan, and a Deity in the sky who was angry when I ate too much plumcake.
We cannot reform our forefathers.
The finest language is mostly made up of simple unimposing words.
People who can't be witty exert themselves to be devout and affectionate.
There's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots.
To fear the examination of any proposition apears to me an intellectual and a moral palsy that will ever hinder the firm grasping of any substance whatever.