First you don't want me to get the pony, then you want me to take it back. Make up your mind!

And by the Sacred Parchment, I swear that if I reveal the secrets of The Stonecutters, may my stomach become bloated and my head be plucked of all but three hairs

Reproach is infinite, and knows no end.

Better to flee from death than feel its grip.

The rest were vulgar deaths unknown to fame.

Zeus it seems has given us from youth to old age a nice ball of wool to wind-nothing but wars upon wars until we shall perish every one.

The Simpsons are going to Delaware!