Oh, Child, Men's Men: Gentle Or Simple,

Iteration, Like Friction, Is Likely To Generate Heat Instead Of Progress.

That Farewell Kiss Which Resembles Greeting, That Last Glance Of Love Which Becomes The Sharpest Pang Of Sorrow.

All Meanings, We Know, Depend On The Key Of Interpretation.

Every Man Who Is Not A Monster, A Mathematician, Or A Mad Philosopher, Is The Slave Of Some Woman Or Other.

There's Things To Put Up Wi' In Ivery Place, An' You May Change An' Change An' Not Better Yourself When All's Said An' Done.