You Might As Well Sell Yourself To

I Thought Mr. Millward Never Would Cease Telling Us That He Was No Tea-drinker, And That It Was Highly Injurious To Keep Loading The Stomach With Slops To The Exclusion Of More Wholesome Sustenance, And So Give Himself Time To Finish His Fourth Cup.

No One Can Be Happy In Eternal Solitude.

I Do Believe A Young Lady Can't Be Too Careful Who She Marries.

To Regret The Exchange Of Earthly Pleasures For The Joys Of Heaven, Is As If The Grovelling Caterpillar Should Lament That It Must One Day Quit The Nibbled Leaf To Soar Aloft And Flutter Through The Air, Roving At Will From Flower To Flower, Sipping Sweet Honey From Their Cups, Or Basking In Their Sunny Petals.

There's Nothing Like Active Employment, I Suppose, To Console The Afflicted.