“Lordy loo, sugar,” she said from her wheelchair, her face all crumpled up like a dried-out apple. “You're going to ruin it. […]

Their eyes were opened to ſee their nakedneſſe: naked they were of diuine protection and fauor, naked of Angelicall guard and cuſtodie, naked of Humane puritie and holineſſe, naked of dutifull subiection from the rebelling Creatures;

I thought I was a hypochondriac because my friends said that I was showing unnecessary concern about my health. Thanks to Dr. Cartwright I now know that I am a diseased man. I suffer from the acute stages of a chronic disease: drapetomania. I have the obsessive desire to run toward freedom. You have the right to know that a diseased man is near you because, and I say this carefully, drapetomania is contagious, and I am glad about it. As a drapetomaniac, I belong at a Freedom Fund Banquet.

Which was to them a sorry meal.