On a motorway, you should never pass another vehicle on the inside.

With Akeley’s permission I lighted a small oil lamp, turned it low, and set it on a distant bookcase beside the ghostly bust of Milton; but afterward I was sorry I had done so, for it made my host’s strained, immobile face and listless hands look damnably abnormal and corpselike.

It is one of the most trying things about this life, this necessity of laughing uproariously when vinous old men say things that are dirty but not funny; else one is written down as a prig.

Doeſt thou forſake the deuill and all his workes? / Aunſwere. I forſake them.