Whose Wit In The Combat, As Gentle

A Persian's Heaven Is Eas'ly Made: 't Is But Black Eyes And Lemonade.

A Garden Was The Primitive Prison, Till Man With Promethean Felicity And Boldness, Luckily Sinned Himself Out Of It.

Clap An Extinguisher Upon Your Irony If You Are Unhappily Blessed With A Vein Of It.

Gone Before To That Unknown And Silent Shore.

Anything Awful Makes Me Laugh. I Misbehaved Once At A Funeral.