A woman (like an echo), will hav the last word.
Put an Englishman into the garden of Eden, and he would find fault with the whole blassted consarn—put a Yankee in, and he would see whare he could alter it to advantage—put an Irishman in, and he would want tew boss the thing—put a Dutchman in, and he would proceed at once to plant it.
When a man is squandering hiz estate, even those who are getting it, call him a phool.
Men mourn for what they hav lost—wimmin, for what they hain’t got.
I judge ov a man’s virtew entirely bi his phashions—it iz a grate deal eazier tew be a good dove, than a decent sarpent.
Thare are menny ways to find out how brave and how honest a man may be, but thare aint no way to find out the extent ov hiz vanity.
A lie iz like a cat, it never cums to yu in a straight line.
Natur iz a kind mother. She couldn’t well afford to make us perfekt, and so she made us blind to our failings.
Studdy the heart if yu want to learn human natur; there ain’t no human natur in a man’s head.
Friendship iz simply the gallantry of self interest.