This poem [The Ancient Mariner] would not have taken so well if it had been called “The Old Sailor.” - Samuel Butler

How is it, I wonder, that all religious officials, from God the Father to the parish beadle, should be so arbitrary and exacting.

If I die prematurely, at any rate I shall be saved from being bored by my own success.

Slugs have ridden their contempt for defensive armour as much to death as the turtles their pursuit of it. They have hardly more than skin enough to hold themselves together; they court death every time they cross the road. Yet death comes not to them more than to the turtle, whose defences are so great that there is little left inside to be defended. Moreover, the slugs fare best in the long run, for turtles are dying out, while slugs are not, and there must be millions of slugs all over the world over for every single turtle.