I am almost frightened out of my seven senses.
Whom God loves, his house is sweet to him.
Facts are the enemy of truth.
I never thrust my nose into other men's porridge. It is no bread and butter of mine; every man for himself, and God for us all.
Many go out for wool, and come home shorn themselves.
Tis the only comfort of the miserable to have partners in their woes.