   Wit is like a ghost, much more often talked of than seen.
  Wit kills the soul, as argument kills reason.
            —Honoré de Balzac   Full of wit as a ginger-bottle
is of pop.             —J. R. Bartlett’s Dictionary of
Americanisms Wits, like Physicians, never can agree, When of a
different Society.             —Aphra Behn   His wit is like
fire in a flint, that is nothing while it is in, and nothing
again as soon as it is out.             —Samuel Butler All wit
and fancy, like a diamond, The more exact and curious ’tis
ground, Is forc’d every Carate to abate, As much in value as it
wants in weight.             —Samuel Butler Wit’s like a
luxuriant vine; Unless to virtue’s prop it join, Firm and erect
toward Heaven bound, Though it with beauteous leaves and
pleasant fruit be crown’d It lies, deformed and rotting, on the
ground.             —Abraham Cowley Wit, like fierce-claret,
when’t begins to pall, Neglected lies, as ’f of no use at all;
But, in its full perfection of decay, Turns vinegar, and com