Life's A Pudding Full Of Plums.

Bow, Bow, Ye Lower Middle Classes! Bow, Bow, Ye Tradesmen, Bow, Ye Masses!

Is Life A Boon? If So, It Must Befall That Death, Whene'er He Call, Must Call Too Soon.

No Good Play Is A Success; Fine Writing And High Morals Are Useless On The Stage. I Have Been Scribbling Twaddle For Thirty-five Years To Suit The Public Taste, And I Should Know.

Wherever Valor True Is Found, True Modesty Will There Abound.

Roll On, Thou Ball, Roll On! Through Pathless Realms Of Space, Roll On!