Mackintosh intertrudes not introduces his beauties.
Snails of intellect who see only by their feelers.
Pygmy minds, measuring others by their own standard, cry What a monster, when they view a man!
Our constitution is to some like cheese—the rotten parts they like the best.
Her eyes sparkled as if they had been cut out of a diamond-quarry in some Golconda of Fairyland, and cast such meaning glances as would have vitrified the flint in a murderer's blunderbuss.