I Think I Could Eat One Of

The Poorest Man May, In His Cottage, Bid Defiance To All The Forces Of The Crown. It May Be Frail, Its Roof May Shake; The Wind May Blow Though It; The Storm May Enter; The Rain May Enter; But The King Of England May Not Enter; All His Force Dares Not Cross The Threshold Of The Ruined Tenement.

I Think I Could Eat One Of Bellamy's Veal Pies.

Unlimited Power Is Apt To Corrupt The Minds Of Those Who Posses It; And This I Know, My Lords: That Where Law Ends, Tyranny Begins.

Confidence Is A Plant Of Slow Growth In An Aged Bosom.

Don't Talk To Me About A Man's Being Able To Talk Sense; Everyone Can Talk Sense. Can He Talk Nonsense?