Go Hang Yourself, You Naughty Mocking Uncle!

Men At Sometime Are The Masters Of Their Fate.

I Have Been Long A Sleeper; But I Trust My Absence Doth Neglect No Great Design Which By My Presence Might Have Been Concluded.

The Cheek Is Apter Than The Tongue To Tell An Errand.

Some Men Never Seem To Grow Old. Always Active In Thought, Always Ready To Adopt New Ideas, They Are Never Chargeable With Foggyism. Satisfied, Yet Ever Dissatisfied, Settled, Yet Ever Unsettled, They Always Enjoy The Best Of What Is, Are The First To Find The Best Of What Will Be.

Oh God! That One Might Read The Book Of Fate, And See The Revolution Of The Times Make Mountains Level, And The Continent, Weary Of Solid Firmness, Melt Itself Into The Sea.