Art Thou A Friend To Roderick?

Chess Is A Sad Waste Of Brains.

A Few Drops Sprinkled On The Torch Of Love Make The Flame Blaze The Brighter.

Honour Is A Homicide And A Bloodspiller, That Gangs About Making Frays In The Street; But Credit Is A Decent Honest Man, That Sits At Hame And Makes The Pat Play.

Commend Me To Sterling Honesty Though Clad In Rags.

It Is Wonderful What Strength Of Purpose And Boldness And Energy Of Will Are Roused By The Assurance That We Are Doing Our Duty.