To Shoot At Crows Is

No Author Ever Spar'd A Brother.

Variety's The Source Of Joy Below, From Whence Still Fresh-revolving Pleasures Flow, In Books And Love The Mind One End Pursues, And Only Change The Expiring Flames Renews.

Whence Is Thy Learning? Hath Thy Toil O'er Books Consumed The Midnight Oil?

She Who Has Never Lov'd, Has Never Liv'd.

Fill It Up. I Take As Large Draughts Of Liquor As I Did Of Love. I Hate A Flincher In Either.