The only art her guilt to cover

There is no arguing with Johnson: for if his pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with the butt end of it.

Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.

Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law.

Such dainties to them, their health it might hurt; It's like sending them ruffles, when wanting a shirt.

A nightcap decked his brows instead of bay, A cap by night — a stocking all the day!

[To Mr. Johnson] If you were to make little fishes talk, they would talk like whales.