In Hell There Is No Retention.

Whoever Is Ignorant Is Vulgar.

Since We Have A Good Loaf, Let Us Not Look For Cheesecakes.

Nay, What Is Worse, Perhaps Turn Poet, Which, They Say, Is An Infectious And Incurable Distemper.

Too Much Sanity May Be Madness And The Maddest Of All, To See Life As It Is And Not As It Should Be.

I Had Rather Munch A Crust Of Brown Bread And An Onion In A Corner, Without Any More Ado Or Ceremony, Than Feed Upon Turkey At Another Man?s Table, Where One Is Fain To Sit Mincing And Chewing His Meat An Hour Together, Drink Little, Be Always Wiping His Fingers And His Chops, And Never Dare To Cough Nor Sneeze, Though He Has Never So Much A Mind To It, Nor Do A Many Things Which A Body May Do Freely By One?s Self.