Repartee Is The Soul Of Conversation.

Happy The Man, And Happy He Alone, He Who Can Call Today His Own; He Who, Secure Within, Can Say, Tomorrow Do Thy Worst, For I Have Lived Today.

Fattened In Vice, So Callous And So Gross, He Sins And Sees Not, Senseless Of His Loss.

Ill Writers Are Usually The Sharpest Censors.

Among Our Crimes Oblivion May Be Set.

They Say Everything In The World Is Good For Something.