This a noble dish is— A sort of soup or broth, or brew, Or hotchpotch of all sorts of fishes, That Greenwich never could outdo. - William Makepeace Thackeray

Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children; and here was one who was worshipping a stone!

[As they say in the old legends]Before a man goes to the devil himself, he sends plenty of other souls thither.

Of the Corporation of the Goosequill — of the Press, my boy, … of the fourth estate … There she is — the great engine — she never sleeps. She has her ambassadors in every quarter of the world — her couriers upon every road. Her officers march along with armies, and her envoys walk into statesmen's cabinets. They are ubiquitous.