May my last breath be drawn through a pipe, and exhaled in a jest.
English physicians kill you, the French let you die.
As half in shade and half in sun This world along its path advances, May that side the sun 's upon Be all that e'er shall meet thy glances!
A babe is fed with milk and praise.
Satire does not look pretty upon a tombstone.
I always arrive late at the office, but I make up for it by leaving early.