I wonder what fool it was that first invented kissing.
What we call the Irish Brogue is no sooner discovered, than it makes the deliverer, in the last degree, ridiculous and despised; and, from such a mouth, an Englishman expects nothing but bulls, blunders, and follies.
It is a miserable thing to live in suspense; it is the life of the spider.
For want of a block, man will stumble at a straw.
My nose itched, and I knew I should drink wine or kiss a fool.
It is the folly of too many to mistake the echo of a London coffee-house for the voice of the kingdom.