To Every Man His Little Cross. Till

The Sky Sinks In The Morning, This Fact Has Been Insufficiently Observed.

Don't Touch Me! Don't Question Me! Don't Speak To Me! Stay With Me!

We Are All Born Crazy. Some Remain That Way.

The Whisky Bears A Grudge Against The Decanter.

The Tears Of The World Are A Constant Quantity. For Each One Who Begins To Weep Somewhere Else Another Stops. The Same Is True Of The Laugh. Let Us Not Then Speak Ill Of Our Generation, It Is Not Any Unhappier Than Its Predecessors. Let Us Not Speak Well Of It Either. Let Us Not Speak Of It At All. It Is True The Population Has Increased.