When Eve Upon The First Of Men

A Moment's Thinking Is An Hour In Words.

Whoe'er Has Gone Thro' London Street, Has Seen A Butcher Gazing At His Meat, And How He Keeps Gloating Upon A Sheep's Or Bullock's Personals, As If His Own; How He Admires His Halves And Quarters--and His Calves, As If In Truth Upon His Own Legs Grown.

To Attempt To Advise Conceited People Is Like Whistling Against The Wind.

When Was Ever Honey Made With One Bee In A Hive?

A Certain Portion Of The Human Race Has Certainly A Taste For Being Diddled.