There is something fascinating about science. One gets such wholesale returns of conjecture out of such a trifling investment of fact.

whenever the literary german dives into a sentence, this is the last you are going to see of him till he emerges on the other side of his atlantic with his verb in his mouth.

How slow and still the time did drag along.

Experience, the only logic sure to convince a diseased imagination and restore it to rugged health.

Be virtuous and you will be eccentric.

The true and lasting genius of humour does not drag you thus to boxes labelled 'pathos,' 'humour,' and show you all the mechanism of the inimitable puppets that are going to perform. How I used to laugh at Simon Tapperwit, and the Wellers, and a host more! But I can't do it now somehow; and time, it seems to me, is the true test of humour. It must be antiseptic.

What would men be without women? Scarce, sir...mighty scarce.