Nay, but Jack, such eyes! such eyes! so innocently wild! so bashfully irresolute! Not a glance but speaks and kindles some thought of love! Then, Jack, her cheeks! her cheeks, Jack! so deeply blushing at the insinuations of her tell-tale eyes! Then, Jack, her lips! O, Jack, lips smiling at their own discretion! and, if not smiling, more sweetly pouting - more lovely in sullenness! Then, Jack, her neck! O, Jack, Jack!

Tale-bearers are as bad as the tale-makers.

If Parliament were to consider the sporting with reputation of as much importance as sporting on manors, and pass an act for the preservation of fame as well as game, there are many who would thank them for the bill.

A practitioner in panegyric, or, to speak more plainly, a professor of the art of puffing.

A circulating library in a town is as an evergreen tree of diabolical knowledge.

Fame, the sovereign deity of proud ambition.

Madam, a circulating library in a town is as an evergreen tree of diabolical knowledge; it blossoms through the year. And depend on it that they who are so fond of handling the leaves, will long for the fruit at last.