I had been dead-heavy before, and now I felt a kind of dreadful lightness, which would not suffer me to walk. I drifted like a gossamer; the ground seemed to me a cloud, the hills a feather-weight, the air to have a current, like a running burn, which carried me to and fro.

The genius of Puritanism, with all its forefixed concatenation of misdeeds and punishments, had served me out properly.

He knew bugology better than he did manology, and he was acquainted with all the bugs from Adam down, and he had all kinds of them in frames hung up around his office.

To one consent, may work contrariously: / As many arrows, loosed several ways, / Come to one mark.