Nothing Is More Completely The

Who, Noteless As The Race From Which He Sprung, Saved Others' Names, But Left His Own Unsung.

Greatness Of Any Kind Has No Greater Foe Than A Habit Of Drinking.

Just At The Age 'twixt Boy And Youth, When Thought Is Speech, And Speech Is Truth.

I Will But Confess The Sins Of My Green Cloak To My Grey Friar's Frock, And All Shall Be Well Again.

Revenge, The Sweetest Morsel To The Mouth That Ever Was Cooked In Hell.