Necessity, The Mother Of Invention.

Our Sex Still Strikes An Awe Upon The Brave, And Only Cowards Dare Affront A Woman.

Grant Me Some Wild Expressions, Heavens, Or I Shall Burst.

Poetry's A Mere Drug, Sir.

We Are The Men Of Intrinsic Value, Who Can Strike Our Fortunes Out Of Ourselves, Whose Worth Is Independent Of Accidents In Life, Or Revolutions In Government: We Have Heads To Get Money, And Hearts To Spend It.

Spite Of All Modesty, A Man Must Own A Pleasure In The Hearing Of His Praise.