The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations Preface

And, scarce-suspected, animate the whole.
In Lady Holland ‘Memoir’ (1855) vol. 1, ch. 11, p. 373 ‘Recipe for Salad’
Serenely full, the epicure would say,
Fate cannot harm me, I have dined to-day.
In Lady Holland ‘Memoir’ (1855) vol. 1, ch. 11, p. 373.
Deserves to be preached to death by wild curates.
In Lady Holland ‘Memoir’ (1855) vol. 1, ch. 11, p. 384
I never read a book before reviewing it; it prejudices a man so.
In H. Pearson ‘The Smith of Smiths’ (1934) ch. 3, p. 54
Minorities...are almost always in the right.
In H. Pearson ‘The Smith of Smiths’ (1934) ch. 9, p. 220
—’s idea of heaven is, eating pâtè de foie gras to the sound of trumpets.
In H. Pearson ‘The Smith of Smiths’ (1934) ch. 10, p. 236
What a pity it is that we have no amusements in England but vice and religion!
In H. Pearson ‘The Smith of Smiths’ (1934) ch. 10, p. 236
Let the Dean and Canons lay their heads together and the thing will be done.
On a proposal to surround St Paul’s with a wooden pavement, in H. Pearson ‘The Smith of Smiths’ (1934) ch.
10, p. 237
Death must be distinguished from dying, with which it is often confused.
In H. Pearson ‘The Smith of Smiths’ (1934) ch. 11, p. 271
What two ideas are more inseparable than Beer and Britannia?
In H. Pearson ‘The Smith of Smiths’ (1934) ch. 11, p. 272
I am just going to pray for you at St Paul’s, but with no very lively hope of success.
In H. Pearson ‘The Smith of Smiths’ (1934) ch. 13, p. 308
Poverty is no disgrace to a man, but it is confoundedly inconvenient.
In ‘Sidney Smith: His Wit and Wisdom’ (1900) p. 89
Science is his forte, and omniscience his foible. On William Whewell, in Isaac Todhunter ‘William
Whewell’ (1876) vol. 1, p. 410
7.118 Tobias Smollett 1721-71
I think for my part one half of the nation is mad—and the other not very sound.
‘The Adventures of Sir Launcelot Greaves’ (1762) ch. 6
That great Cham of literature, Samuel Johnson.
Letter to John Wilkes, 16 March 1759, in James Boswell ‘The Life of Samuel Johnson’ (1934) vol. 1, p. 348
The capital [London] is become an overgrown monster; which, like a dropsical head, will in
time leave the body and extremities without nourishment and support.
‘The Expedition of Humphry Clinker’ (1771) vol. 1, letter from Matthew Bramble, 29 May
I am pent up in frowzy lodgings, where there is not room enough to swing a cat.
‘The Expedition of Humphry Clinker’ (1771) vol. 1, letter from Matthew Bramble, 8 June
‘Begging your honour’s pardon, (replied Clinker) may not the new light of God’s grace shine