I Regret All Of My Books.

Tain't No Use In You Cryin' . . . But Folks Is Meant To Cry 'bout Somethin' Or Other. Better Leave Things De Way Dey Is. Youse Young Yet. No Tellin' Whut Mout Happen Befo' You Die.

You Heard Me. You Ain't Blind.

The Liquor Of Statecraft Is Distilled From The Mash You Got.

When A Man Keeps Beating Me To The Draw Mentally, He Begins To Get Glamorous.

Gods Always Love The People Who Make 'em.