Appetite Comes With Eating.

But Where Are The Snows Of Last Year? That Was The Greatest Concern Of Villon, The Parisian Poet.

One Inch Of Joy Surmounts Of Grief A Span, Because To Laugh Is Proper To The Man.

If The Head Is Lost, All That Perishes Is The Individual; If The Balls Are Lost, All Of Human Nature Perishes.

Oh Thrice And Four Times Happy... Those Who Plant Cabbages.

A Little Rain Beats Down A Big Wind. Long Drinking Bouts Break Open The Tun(der).