When You're In My House You Shall

Restrain Yourself... And Gloat In Silence. I'll Have No Jubilation Here. It Is An Impious Thing To Exult Over The Slain.

I Wish That Strife Would Vanish Away From Among Gods And Mortals, And Gall, Which Makes A Man Grow Angry For All His Great Mind, That Gall Of Anger That Swarms Like Smoke Inside Of A Man's Heart And Becomes A Thing Sweeter To Him By Far Than The Dripping Of Honey.

Sleep, Delicious And Profound, The Very Counterfeit Of Death

By Hook Or By Crook This Peril Too Shall Be Something That We Remember

Guns Aren't Toys! They're For Family Protection, Hunting Dangerous Or Delicious Animals, And Keeping The King Of England Out Of Your Face!