Words are the weak support of cold indifference; love has no language to be heard.
Men are apt to offend ('tis true) where they find most goodness to forgive.
Hannibal was a very pretty fellow in those days.
They are at the end of the gallery; retired to their tea and scandal, according to their ancient custom.
I hope you do not think me prone to any iteration of nuptials.
A hungry wolf at all the herd will run, In hopes, through many, to make sure of one.