Worthless As Wither'd Weeds.

I Have To Remind Myself To Breathe -- Almost To Remind My Heart To Beat!

The Tyrant Grinds Down His Slaves And They Don't Turn Against Him, They Crush Those Beneath Them.

You Know, I've Had A Bitter, Hard Life Since I Last Heard Your Voice And If I've Survived It's All Because Of You.

If All Else Perished, And He Remained, I Should Still Continue To Be; And If All Else Remained, And He Were Annihilated, The Universe Would Turn To A Mighty Stranger.

The Lord Help Us!' He Soliloquised In An Undertone Of Peevish Displeasure, While Relieving Me Of My Horse: Looking, Meantime, In My Face So Sourly That I Charitably Conjectured He Must Have Need Of Divine Aid To Digest His Dinner, And His Pious Ejaculation Had No Reference To My Unexpected Advent.