Seven letters written by Sterne and his friends, hitherto unpubl., ed. by W.D. Cooper

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Page 8 - The last three weeks we were every hour upon the doleful ditty of parting — and...
Page 22 - I, on the contrary, go and visit my wife, the church in Yorkshire. — We all live the longer, — at least the happier, for having things our own way. — This is my conjugal maxim: — I own 'tis not the best of maxims; — but I maintain 'tis not the worst.
Page 13 - Let high birth triumph ! What can be more great ? Nothing — but merit in a low estate. To virtue's humblest son let none prefer Vice, though descended from the Conqueror. Shall men, like figures, pass for high, or base, Slight, or important, only by their place ? Titles are marks of honest men, and wise ; The fool, or knave, that wears a title, lies.
Page 8 - I canter'd away with it the first month, two up, two down, always upon my hanches along the streets from my hotel to hers, at first, once — then twice, then three times a day, till at length I was within an ace of setting up my hobby horse in her stable for good an all.
Page 13 - He stands for fame on his forefathers' feet, By heraldry prov'd valiant or discreet. With what a decent pride he throws his eyes Above the man by three descents less wise ! If virtues at his noble hands you crave, You bid him raise his fathers from the grave.
Page 8 - We have been talking and projecting about setting out from this city of seductions every day this month, so that allowing me three weeks to ruminate upon yr Letter, and this Month pasd in Projections, and some other things of the same termination, I account for this sin of omission to you, without pretending to excuse it — 'God, be merciful to me a sinner'1 — or sometimes, dear Sir, or dear Madame, be merciful, &c.
Page 23 - There is a Castle in the North, Seated upon a swampy clay, At present but of little worth, In former times it had its day. " This ancient Castle is call'd CRAZY, Whose mould'ring walks a moat environs, Which moat goes heavily and lazy, Like a poor prisoner in irons.
Page 9 - I see not. On Thursday morning we set out from foutre-land, tho' we ought not to abuse it — for we have lived (shag rag and bobtail), all of us, a most jolly nonsensical life of it, and so dear cosin Antony...
Page 13 - Of folly, vice, disease, men proud we see ; And (stranger still !) of blockheads' flattery ; Whose praise defames ; as if a fool should mean, By spitting on your face, to make it clean.

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