Kill a man's family, and he may brook it, But keep your hands out of his breeches' pocket.

The simple Wordsworth . . . / Who, both by precept and example, shows / That prose is verse, and verse is merely prose.

I am about to be married, and am of course in all the misery of a man in pursuit of happiness.

Think not I am what I appear.

And then he danced,-all foreigners excel the serious Angels in the eloquence of pantomime;-he danced, I say, right well, with emphasis, and a'so with good sense-a thing in footing indispensable: he danced without theatrical pretence, not like a ballet-master in the van of his drill'd nymphs, but like a gentleman.

Dead scandals form good subjects for dissection.

What deep wounds ever closed without a scar? The hearts bleed longest, and heals but to wear That which disfigures it.