To-morrow We Embark Upon The

Aries In His Many Fits Knows No Favorites.

Nothing Feebler Does Earth Nurture Than Man, Of All Things Breathing And Moving.

Ah, Beer, My One Weakness. My Achille's Heel, If You Will.

The Melancholy Joys Of Evils Pass'd, For He Who Much Has Suffer'd, Much Will Know.

Reproach Is Infinite, And Knows No End So Voluble A Weapon Is The Tongue; Wounded, We Wound; And Neither Side Can Fail For Every Man Has Equal Strength To Rail.