I tell you, Farmer What's-your-name, that I'm a man of education.

I know several languages; the poets and I are familiar friends; I used to read more in metaphysics than anybody within fifty miles; and since I gave that up there's nobody can match me in the whole county of Wessex as a scientist.

Yet I an doomed to live with tradespeople in a miserable little hole like Hintock!" "Indeed!" muttered Melbury.
Fitzpiers, increasingly energized by the alcohol, here reared himself up suddenly from the bowed posture he had hitherto held, thrusting his shoulders so violently against Melbury's breast as to make it difficult for the old man to keep a hold on the reins.

"People don't appreciate me here!" the surgeon exclaimed; lowering his voice, he added, softly and slowly, "except one--except one!...A passionate soul, as warm as she is clever, as beautiful as she is warm, and as rich as she is beautiful.

I say, old fellow, those claws of yours clutch me rather tight--rather like the eagle's, you know, that ate out the liver of Pro--Pre--the man on Mount Caucasus.