Act well your part, there all the honour lies.
To err is human; to forgive, divine.
And, after all, what is a lie? ‘Tis but the truth in a masquerade.
Nature and nature’s laws lay hid in the night. God said, Let Newton be! and all was light!
Wit is the lowest form of humor.
First you wonder if they’re separate stories, but no, they’re not, they’re contingent stories and they form a pattern. And you begin with some of the island as the place to which the heroine of the book returns.
‘Tis not enough your counsel still be true; Blunt truths more mischief than nice falsehoods do.
But Satan now is wiser than of yore, and tempts by making rich, not making poor.
The vulgar boil, the learned roast, an egg.
It’s the classic story form. All staying equal, or proving equal, or being equal, this will all continue, and the next time around, we’ll move on to see what happened to Harry after he dove in the river, or who his friend John really was, and so on.