After A Rest In Edinburgh, Where, Passing

Oh, How Hard It Must Be To Die Anywhere But In Ones Birthplace.

Time Is The Best Of Critics; And Patience The Best Of Teachers.

I Haven't Heard Anything So Great For A Long Time; Beethoven Snaps His Fingers At The Whole World.

Sometimes I Can Only Groan, And Suffer, And Pour Out My Despair At The Piano.

The Three Most Celebrated Doctors On The Island Have Been To See Me. One Sniffed At What I Spat, The Second Tapped Where I Spat From, And The Third Sounded Me And Listened As I Spat. The First Said I Was Dead, The Second That I Was Dying And The Third That I'm Going To Die.