A Glorious Death Is His, Who For

Sweet Sleep Fell Upon His Eyelids, Unwakeful, Most Pleasant, The Nearest Like Death.

All Right, Let's Not Panic. I'll Make The Money By Selling One Of My Livers. I Can Get By With One.

The Stars Never Lie, But The Astrologers Lie About The Stars.

A Gun Is Not A Weapon! It's A Tool, Like A Butcher's Knife, Or A Harpoon, Or An Alligator.

It Is Not Strength, But Art, Obtains The Prize, And To Be Swift Is Less Than To Be Wise.