It Takes All Sorts (to Make A

Wit And Humor Do Not Reside In Slow Minds.

Pray, Look Better, Sir... Those Things Yonder Are No Giants, But Windmills.

I Would Have Nobody To Control Me; I Would Be Absolute: And Who But I? Now, He That Is Absolute Can Do What He Likes; He That Can Do What He Likes Can Take His Pleasure; He That Can Take His Pleasure Can Be Content; And He That Can Be Content Has No More To Desire. So The Matter 's Over; And Come What Will Come, I Am Satisfied.

Happy The Man To Whom Heaven Has Given A Morsel Of Bread Without Laying Him Under The Obligation Of Thanking Any Other For It Than Heaven Itself.

Little Said Is Soon Amended.