There's No Friends Like The

God Made Food; The Devil The Cooks.

I Am Quite Content To Go Down To Posterity As A Scissors And Paste Man For That Seems To Me A Harsh But Not Unjust Description

Stately, Plump Buck Mulligan Came From The Stairhead, Bearing A Bowl Of Lather On Which A Mirror And A Razor Lay Crossed. A Yellow Dressinggown, Ungirdled, Was Sustained Gently Behind Him By The Mild Morning Air. He Held The Bowl Aloft And Intoned: ----introibo Ad Altare Dei.

Nations Have Their Ego, Just Like Individuals.

The Pleasures Of Love Lasts But A Fleeting But The Pledges Of Life Outlusts A Lieftime.