I Am Ill Every Time

Let Me Alone: I Have Yet My Legs And One Arm. Tell The Surgeon To Make Haste And His Instruments. I Know I Must Lose My Right Arm, So The Sooner It's Off The Better.

In Honour I Gained Them, And In Honour I Will Die With Them.

I Owe All My Success In Life To Having Been Always A Quarter Of An Hour Before My Time.

First Gain The Victory And Then Make The Best Use Of It You Can.

I Am Ill Every Time It Blows Hard, And Nothing But My Enthusiastic Love For The Profession Keeps Me One Hour At Sea.