Life is soul's nursery- its training place for the destinies of eternity.

Who was the blundering idiot who said 'fine words butter no parsnips'? Half the parsnips of society are served and rendered palatable with no other sauce.

The book of female logic is blotted all over with tears, and Justice in their courts is forever in a passion.

Not only is the world informed of everything about you, but of a great deal more.

Life is the soul's nursery.

Come forward, some great marshal, and organize equality in society, and your rod shall swallow up all the juggling old court gold-sticks

I never was much of an oyster eater, nor can I relish them 'in naturalibus' as some do, but require a quantity of sauces, lemons, cayenne peppers, bread and butter, and so forth, to render them palatable.