They Say Miracles Are Past.

I Must To The Barber's, Monsieur, For Methinks I Am Marvellous Hairy About The Face.

Is It Not Strange, That Sheep's Guts Should Hale Souls Out Of Men's Bodies!

Having Nothing, Nothing Can He Lose.

Flout 'em, And Scout 'em; And Scout 'em, And Flout 'em; / Thought Is Free.

A Blind Man Can't Forget The Eyesight He Lost, Show Me Any Beautiful Girl. How Can Her Beauty Not Remind Me Of The One Whose Beauty Surpasses Hers?