The rattles of Isis and the cymbals of Brasilea nearly enough resemble each other.

But wherefore do you droop? why look you sad?

Since the days of Adam, there has been hardly a mischief done in this world but a woman has been at the bottom of it.

She placed her hands on her hips and her stout boots wide apart and bent her body and gaped her mouth and stared at this man who was as gustless as skimmed milk and unsatisfying as water.