When talent fails, indignation writes the verse.

An incurable itch for scribbling takes possession of many, and grows inveterate in their insane breasts.

Nothing is more intolerable than a wealthy woman.

There's no effrontery like that of a woman caught in the act; her very guilt inspires her with wrath and insolence.

It is a wretched thing to rest upon the fame of others, lest, the supporting pillar being removed, the superstructure should collapse in ruin.

The guilty are alarmed and turn pale at the slightest thunder.

Remote though your farm may be, It's something to be the lord of one green lizard-and free.