All Deaths Are Hateful To Miserable Mortals,

A Boy Without Mischief Is Like A Bowling Ball Without A Liquid Center.

If You're Gonna Get Mad At Me Every Time I Do Something Stupid, Then I Guess I'll Just Have To Stop Doing Stupid Things.

And His Good Wife Will Tear Her Cheeks In Grief, His Sons Are Orphans And He, Soaking The Soil Red With His Own Blood, He Rots Away Himself-more Birds Than Women Flocking Round His Body!

And Endless Are The Modes Of Speech, And Far Extends From Side To Side The Field Of Words.

It Is Equally Bad When One Speeds On The Guest Unwilling To Go, And When He Holds Back One Who Is Hastening. Rather One Should Befriend The Guest Who Is There, But Speed Him When He Wishes.