Be you wise and never sad, You will get your lovely lad. Never serious be, nor true, And your wish will come to you-- And if that makes you happy, kid, You'll be the first it ever did.

I like to have a martini/Two at the very most/After three I'm under the table/After four I'm under my host.

Never throw mud: you can miss the target, but your hands will remain dirty.

Creativity is a wild mind and a disciplined eye.

Should they whisper false of you, Never trouble to deny; Should the words they say be true, Weep and storm and say they lie.

Her mind lives tidily, apart from cold and noise and pain. And bolts the door against her heart, out wailing in the rain.

My love runs by like a day in June, And he makes no friends of sorrows. He'll tread his galloping rigadoon In the pathway of the morrows. He'll live his days where the sunbeams start, Nor could storm or wind uproot him. My own dear love, he is all my heart, -- And I wish somebody'd shoot him.