Enough Work To Do, And Strength Enough

Of All The Trees That Grow So Fair Old England To Adorn, Greater Are None Beneath The Sun Than Oak, And Ash And Thorn.

Brother, Thy Tail Hangs Down Behind.

But Remember Please, The Law By Which We Live, We Are Not Built To Comprehend A Lie, We Can Neither Love Nor Pity Nor Forgive. If You Make A Slip In Handling Us You Die.

I Have My Own Matches And Sulphur, And I'll Make My Own Hell.

There Is Sorrow Enough In The Natural Way From Men And Woman To Fill Our Day; But When We Are Certain Of Sorrow In Store, Why Do We Always Arrange For More? Brothers & Sisters, I Bid You Beware Of Giving Your Heart To A Dog To Tear.