Come You Back, You British Soldier; Come

Good Lord! Who Can Account For The Fathomless Folly Of The Public?

It Was The Forty-fathom Slumber That Clears The Soul And Eye And Heart, And Sends You To Breakfast Ravening.

If You Can Keep Your Head When All About You Are Losing Theirs And Blaming It On You, If You Can Trust Yourself When All Men Doubt You, But Make Allowance For Their Doubting Too;!

Meddling With Another Man's Folly Is Always Thankless Work.

Fiction Is Truth's Elder Sister. Obviously. No One In The World Knew What Truth Was Till Some One Had Told A Story.