Clanless, Lawless, Homeless Is He Who Is

How Delicate Her Feet Who Shuns The Ground, Stepping A-tiptoe On The Heads Of Men.

Whatever Day Makes Man A Slave, Takes Half His Worth Away.

Men In Their Generations Are Like The Leaves Of The Trees. The Wind Blows And One Year's Leaves Are Scattered On The Ground; But The Trees Burst Into Bud And Put On Fresh Ones When The Spring Comes Round.

I've Always Wondered If There Was A God. And Now I Know There Is -- And It's Me.

The Simpsons Are Going To Delaware!