O Lord, Sir - when a heroine goes mad she always goes into white satin.

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.

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

For in religion as in friendship, they who profess most are ever the least sincere.

To smile at the jest which plants a thorn in another's breast is to become a principal in the mischief.

Certainly nothing is unnatural that is not physically impossible.

There's no possibility of being witty without a little ill-nature - the malice of a good thing is the barb that makes it stick.