I know a lady that loves to talk so incessantly, she won't give an echo fair play; she has that everlasting rotation of tongue that an echo must wait till she dies before it can catch her last words!

Mr Witwould: "Pray, madam, do you pin up your hair with all your letters? I find I must keep copies." Mrs Millamant: "Only with those in verse.... I never pin up my hair with prose."

If there's delight in love, 'Tis when I see that heart, which others bleed for, bleed for me.

O, she is the antidote to desire.

There is nothing more unbecoming a man of quality than to laugh ... 'tis such a vulgar expression of the passion!

I always take blushing either for a sign of guilt, or of ill breeding.

I hope you do not think me prone to any iteration of nuptials.