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The bread I eat in London, is a deleterious paste, mixed up with chalk, alum, and bone ashes: insipid to the taste, and destructive to the constitution.
Tobias Smollett
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Tobias Smollett
Age: 50 †
Born: 1721
Born: March 19
Died: 1771
Died: September 17
Historian
Journalist
Novelist
Physician Writer
Poet
Surgeon
Translator
Tobias George Smollett
Tobias George Smollet
Ashes
Destructive
Bones
Deleterious
Bread
Paste
London
Chalk
Constitution
Insipid
Taste
Bone
Mixed
More quotes by Tobias Smollett
I think for my part one half of the nation is mad - and the other not very sound.
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Thy spirit, Independence, let me share! Lord of the lion-heart and eagle-eye thy steps I follow with my bosom bare, nor heed the storm that howls along the sky.
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Deep in the frozen regions of the north, A goddess violated brought thee forth, Immortal Liberty!
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Glory is the child of peril.
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A mere index hunter, who held the eel of science by the tail. Index-hunter is a term used mockingly, meaning one who acquires superficial knowledge merely by consulting indexes. The '[holding] the eel of science by the tail' allusion was used in 1728 by Alexander Pope (q.v.).
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A mere index hunter, who held the eel of science by the tail.
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The Highlanders regale themselves with whisky. They find it an excellent preservation against the winter cold. It is given with great success to the infants in the confluent smallpox.
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And hearts resolved and hands prepared The blessings they enjoy to guard.
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Thy fatal shafts unerring move I bow before thine altar, Love!
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Some folks are wise and some are otherwise.
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To the valiant actions speak alone.
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A man's opinion of danger varies at different times, in consequence of an irregular tide of animal spirits and he is actuated by considerations which he dares not avow.
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True courage scorns to vent her prowess in a storm of words and to the valiant action speaks alone.
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The great Cham of literature. (Samuel Johnson)
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Nature I'll court in her sequester'd haunts, By mountain, meadow, streamlet, grove, or cell Where the pois'd lark his evening ditty chants, And health, and peace, and contemplation dwell.
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Writing is all a lottery -- I have been a loser by the works of the greatest men of the age.
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The capital is become an overgrown monster which, like a dropsical head, will in time leave the body and extremities without nourishment and support.
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