Book! You lie there; the fact is, you books must know your places. You'll do to give us the bare words and facts, but we come in to supply the thoughts.

The eyes are the gateway to the soul.

And tell him to paint me a sign, with-no suicides permitted here, and no smloing in the parlor; might as well kill both birds at once.

For all his tattooings he was on the whole a clean, comely looking cannibal.

See how elastic our prejudices grow when once love comes to bend them.

I cherish the greatest respect towards everybody's religious obligations, no matter how comical.

In our man-of-war world, Life comes in at one gangway and Death goes overboard at the other. Under the man-of-war scourge, cursesmix with tears; and the sigh and the sob furnish the bass to the shrill octave of those who laugh to drown buried griefs of their own.