Yet Smelt Roast Meat, Beheld

Smiles Form The Channels Of A Future Tear.

Every Day Confirms My Opinion On The Superiority Of A Vicious Life, And If Virtue Is Not Its Own Reward, I Don't Know Any Other Stipend Annexed To It.

Well, Well, The World Must Turn Upon Its Axis, And All Mankind Turn With It, Heads Or Tails, And Live And Die, Make Love And Pay Our Taxes, And As The Veering Winds Shift, Shift Our Sails.

Old Man! 'tis Not Difficult To Die.

The Very Best Of Vineyards Is The Cellar