There's No Love Lost Between Us.

The Poet May Say Or Sing, Not As Things Were, But As They Ought To Have Been; But The Historian Must Pen Them, Not As They Ought To Have Been, But As They Really Were.

Faint Heart Ne'er Won Fair Lady.

A Stout Heart Breaks Bad Luck.

When God Sends The Dawn, He Sends It For All.

There Is A Remedy For Everything But Death; Who, In Spite Of Our Teeth, Will Take Us In His Clutches.