Two great talkers will not travel far together.
There's night and day, brother, both sweet things; sun, moon, and stars, brother, all sweet things; there's likewise a wind on the heath. Life is very sweet, brother; who would wish to die?
Youth will be served, every dog has his day, and mine has been a fine one.
A losing trade, I assure you, sir: literature is a drug.
Translation is at best an echo.
Sherry...a silly, sickly compound, the use of which will transform a nation, however bold and warlike by nature, into a race of sketchers, scribblers, and punsters, in fact into what Englishmen are at the present day.