It's Man's To Fight, But Heaven's To

Generations Of Men Are Like The Leaves. In Winter, Winds Blow Them Down To Earth, But Then, When Spring Season Comes Again, The Budding Wood Grows More. And So With Men: One Generation Grows, Another Dies Away.

Just Once I'd Like Someone To Call Me 'sir' Without Adding 'you're Making A Scene.'

Porkchops And Bacon, My Two Favorite Animals.

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

All Things Are In The Hand Of Heaven, And Folly, Eldest Of Jove's Daughters, Shuts Men's Eyes To Their Destruction. She Walks Delicately, Not On The Solid Earth, But Hovers Over The Heads Of Men To Make Them Stumble Or To Ensnare Them.