In the ancient city of London, on a certain autumn day in the second quarter of the sixteenth century, a boy was born to a poor family of the name of Canty, who did not want him.

You can go to heaven if you want. I'd rather stay in Bermuda.

Give a man a reputation as an early riser and he can sleep 'til noon.

I do not know what we should do without the pulpit. We could better spare the sun-the moon, anyway.

I was a-trembling, because I'd got to decide, forever, betwixt two things, and I knowed it.

To succeed in the other trades, capacity must be shown; in the law, concealment of it will do.

Whose property is my body? Probably mine. I so regard it. If I experiment with it, who must be answerable? I, not the State. If I choose injudiciously, does the state die? Oh, no.