You Have No Idea What It Is

He Was The Meekest Of His Sex, The Mildest Of Little Men. He Sidled In And Out Of A Room, To Take Up The Less Space. He Walked As Softly As The Ghost In Hamlet, And More Slowly. He Carried His Head On One Side, Partly In Modest Depreciation Of Himself, Partly In Modest Propitiation Of Everybody Else.

I Think The Romans Must Have Aggravated One Another Very Much, With Their Noses. Perhaps, They Became The Restless People They Were, In Consequence.

Minds, Like Bodies, Will Often Fall Into A Pimpled, Ill-conditioned State From Mere Excess Of Comfort.

Novelties Please Less Than They Impress.

I Had Seen The Damp Lying On The Outside Of My Little Window, As If Some Goblin Had Been Crying There All Night, And Using The Window For A Pocket-handkerchief.