A Sound Mind In A Manly Body.

Like The Generations Of Leaves, The Lives Of Mortal Men. Now The Wind Scatters The Old Leaves Across The Earth, Now The Living Timber Bursts With The New Buds And Spring Comes Round Again. And So With Men: As One Generation Comes To Life, Another Dies Away.

Modesty Is Of No Use To A Beggar.

I Was Working On A Flat Tax Proposal And Accidentally Proved There Was No God.

Friend, Many And Many A Dream Is Mere Confusion A Cobweb Of No Consequence At All. Two Gates For Ghostly Dreams There Are: One Gateway Of Honest Horn, And One Of Ivory. Issuing By The Ivory Gate Are Dreams Of Glimmering Illusion, Fantasies, But Those That Come Through Solid Polished Horn May Be Borne Out, If Mortals Only Know Them.

Nothing Shall I, While Sane, Compare With A Friend.