There are three things which the public will always clamour for, sooner or later; namely: novelty, novelty, novelty.

Some dreams we have are nothing else but dreams, Unnatural and full of contradictions; Yet others of our most romantic schemes, Are something more than fictions.

Comfort and indolence are cronies.

O men with sisters dear, O men with mothers and wives, It is not linen you 're wearing out, But human creatures' lives!

I remember, I remember The fir-trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky; It was a childish ignorance, But now 't is little joy To know I'm farther off from heaven Than when I was a boy.

Well for the drones of the social hive that there are bees of an industrious turn, willing, for an infinitesimal share of the honey, to undertake the labor of its fabrication.

Extremes meet', as the whiting said with its tail in its mouth.