It Behooves A Father To Be Blameless

Accept These Grateful Tears...for Thee They Flow, For Thee... That Ever Felt Another's Woe.

Anger, Which, Far Sweeter Than Trickling Drops Of Honey, Rises In The Bosom Of A Man Like Smoke.

So It Is That The Gods Do Not Give All Men Gifts Of Grace - Neither Good Looks Nor Intelligence Nor Eloquence.

First You Don't Want Me To Get The Pony, Then You Want Me To Take It Back. Make Up Your Mind!

I Say No Wealth Is Worth My Life.