I Know That’s A Secret, For It’s

Mr Witwould: "pray, Madam, Do You Pin Up Your Hair With All Your Letters? I Find I Must Keep Copies." Mrs Millamant: "only With Those In Verse.... I Never Pin Up My Hair With Prose."

Nothing But You Can Lay Hold Of My Mind, And That Can Lay Hold Of Nothing But You.

Thou Art A Retailer Of Phrases, And Dost Deal In Remnants Of Remnants.

Though Marriage Makes Man And Wife One Flesh, It Leaves 'em Still Two Fools.

Music Has Charms To Soothe A Savage Breast, To Soften Rocks, Or Bend A Knotted Oak. I've Read That Things Inanimate Have Moved, And, As With Living Souls, Have Been Inform'd, By Magic Numbers And Persuasive Sound.