His preening self-satisfaction, chest thrown forward as he settles into a chair in his mansion...

I wouldn’t have believed it of myself; but, then - you see - I felt somehow I must get there by hook or by crook.

In the field of epitaphology, Dr. Johnson opens his essay on the subject by adhering to the familiar topos of claiming new territory for critical exploration:[…]

A caller interrupted me yesterday, a most persistent fellow and a dangerous one to the purse of the tyro collector of Americana, though not to me. He was a man of some pretence to classic education, and superficially versed in lore of title, date, and editio princeps.