We don't love people so much for the good they have done us, as for the good we have done them - Laurence Sterne

— So much motion, continues he, (for he was very corpulent) — is so much unquietness; and so much of rest, by the same analogy, is so much of heaven.
Now, I (being very thin) think differently; and that so much of motion, is so much of life, and so much of joy — and that to stand still, or get on but slowly, is death and the devil —

my uncle Toby had certainly been overthrown: the sentence and the argument in that case jumping closely in one point, so like the two lines which form the salient angle of a ravelin, — Dr. Slop would never have given them up; — and my uncle Toby would as soon have thought of flying, as taking them by force: but Dr. Slop fumbled so vilely in pulling them out, it took off the whole effect, and what was a ten times worse evil (for they seldom come alone in this life) in pulling out his forceps, his forceps unfortunately drew out the squirt along with it. When a proposition can be taken in two senses — ’tis a law in disputation, That the respondent may reply to which of the two he pleases, or finds most convenient for him. — This threw the advantage of the argument quite on my uncle Toby’s side. — ‘Good God!’ cried my uncle Toby, ‘are children brought into the world with a squirt?

What could Dr. Slop do? — he crossed himself + — Pugh! — but the doctor, Sir, was a Papist. — No matter; he had better have kept hold of the pummel. — He had so; — nay, as it happened, he had better have done nothing at all; for in crossing himself he let go his whip, — and in attempting to save his whip betwixt his knee and his saddle’s skirt, as it slipped, he lost his stirrup, — in losing which he lost his seat; — and in the multitude of all these losses (which, by the bye, shews what little advantage there is in crossing) the unfortunate doctor lost his presence of mind. So that without waiting for Obadiah’s onset, he left his pony to its destiny, tumbling off it diagonally, something in the stile and manner of a pack of wool, and without any other consequence from the fall, save that of being left (as it would have been) with the broadest part of him sunk about twelve inches deep in the mire.