There's Some Are Fou O'

I Waive The Quantum O' The Sin, The Hazard Of Concealing; But, Och! It Hardens A' Within, And Petrifies The Feeling!

Pleasures Are Like Poppies Spread: You Seize The Flow'r, Its Bloom Is Shed.

Dare To Be Honest And Fear No Labor. ... Opera Is Where A Man Gets Stabbed In The Back, And Instead Of Dying, He Sings.

God Help The Teacher, If A Man Of Sensibility And Genius, When A Booby Father Presents Him With His Booby Son, And Insists On Lighting Up The Rays Of Science In A Fellow's Head Whose Skull Is Impervious And Inaccessible By Any Other Way Than A Positive Fracture With A Cudgel.

There Is No Such Uncertainty As A Sure Thing.