Dwight Eisenhower, a president not particularly remembered for his wit, once remarked that all isms are wasms. He was presumably referring, rather presciently, to the largely forgotten isms that were once perceived as a threat to truth, justice, and the American way: Marxism, socialism, communism.

We are far more apt to yawn than to weep as we make our way through this series of loosely connected incidents, of unmotivated actions, of contrived metings-out of justice.

The possession of the mortgagee is of the very essence of the Welsh mortgage, and every receipt of rent is a receipt, by virtue of the contract[…]

Of Wordsworth's demeanour and physical presence, De Quincey's account, silly, coxcombical, and vulgar, is the worst; Carlyle's, as might be expected from his magical gift of portraiture, is the best.