Thou Whoreson Zed! Thou Unnecessary Letter!

My Cake Is Dough, But I'll In Among The Rest, Out Of Hope Of All But My Share Of The Feast.

And Flights Of Angels Sing Thee To Thy Rest!

The Force Of His Own Merit Makes His Way-a Gift That Heaven Gives For Him.

I See That The Fashion Wears Out More Apparel Than The Man.

A Kind Of Excellent Dumb Discourse.