The act of copulation is like that of picking the nose. It's all right to be doing it yourself but it is a singularly unattractive spectacle for the onlooker.

When you've never gotten love from someone, you dob't know what it might look like if it ever does appear.

I have, for instance, silently corrected Jefferson’s frequent use of “it’s” for “its” and “recieve” for “receive,

A perfect misanthropist's heaven: and Mr. Heathcliff and I are such a suitable pair to divide the desolation between us.

Written By Emily Brontë

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