Hmmmm...There certainly are a lot of pretty boys in this world.

And if that is the Foremast, what do you think that sail might be called, Mr. Wheeler?" "The Foresail?" "Very good, Mr. Wheeler, and the next one up would be called..." ..."The Next Sail, Sir?" "Alas, no, Mr. Wheeler.

But surely we are not allowed..." "Allowed?" I counters. "We're allowed to do anything in this world until someone says we ain't allowed and that someone can back it up.

I can smell the smoke now. I can see tendrils of it comin' up between the cracks in the shrikin' floorboards. There she is, calmly taking down the framed examples of fine embroideries, samplers, and needlework from teh hallway wall and tucking them under her arm. "Mistress! Come on! You've got to leave!" She calmly turns and faces me. "Why?" she asks. "The British are coming?" "Only one, Mistress," I say

When in Boston, I shall be able to take you out to dinner, if not to bed. I should greatly prefer the latter, but I must accept my lot.

Well,' I shrug, all innocent, 'we all ride our little hobbyhorses, don't we, Mr. Peel?

What's the matter Jaimy? Ain't-cha never seen a girl before? -Jacky Faber