I am haunted by the thought that you may blame me; I know how I despised your remonstrances.

O, Loudon, don't be hard on your miserable partner.

The funny-dog business is what kills.

I fear your stern rectitude of mind like the eye of God.
I cannot think but what some of my books seem mixed up; otherwise, I don't seem to see my way as plain as I could wish to.

Or else my brain is gone soft.