Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath stell'd Thy beauty's form in table of my heart […]

Wrex: There are acid tanks rigged up on that thing. Set them off. Millions of my ancestors died to put these things down. Don't let them come back.

We spent all day Sunday and picked up a buttload of pecans.

Sophia did not ſee his Behaviour in ſo very diſadvantageous a Light, and was perhaps more pleaſed with the violent Raptures of his Love … than ſhe was offended with the reſt; and indeed ſhe imputed the whole to the Extravagance, or rather Ebullience, of his Paſſion, and to the Openneſs of his Heart.