C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.


It is medicine, not poison, I offer you.


To rankling poison hast thou turned in me the milk of human kindness.


  • While Fell was reposing himself in the hay,
  • A reptile concealed bit his leg as he lay;
  • But, all venom himself, of the wound he made light,
  • And got well, while the scorpion died of the bite.
  • Lessing.

    All men carry about them that which is poyson to serpents: for if it be true that is reported, they will no better abide the touching with man’s spittle than scalding water cast upon them: but if it happen to light within their chawes or mouth, especially if it come from a man that is fasting, it is present death.