My Mother Groaned, My Father Wept, Into

The Vision Of Christ That Thou Dost See Is My Vision's Greatest Enemy.

All Futurity Seems Teeming With Endless Destruction Never To Be Repelled; Desperate Remorse Swallows The Present In A Quenchless Rage.

A Good Local Pub Has Much In Common With A Church, Except That A Pub Is Warmer, And There's More Conversation.

As I Was Walking Among The Fires Of Hell, Delighted With The Enjoyments Of Genius; Which To Angels Look Like Torment And Insanity, I Collected Some Of Their Proverbs.

The Road Of Excess Leads To The Palace Of Wisdom.