Marge, when I join an underground cult I expect a little support from my family.

Be still my heart; thou hast known worse than this.

His descent was like nightfall.

I have no interest at all in food and drink, but only in slaughter and blood and the agonized groans of mangled men

Close to the Gates a spacious Garden lies, From the Storms defended and inclement Skies; Four Acres was the allotted Space of Ground, Fenc'd with a green Enclosure all around. Tall thriving Trees confessed the fruitful Mold: The reddening Apple ripens here to Gold, Here the blue Fig with luscious Juice overflows, With deeper Red the full Pomegranate glows, The Branch here bends beneath the weighty Pear, And verdant Olives flourish round the Year.

Being popular is the most important thing in the world!

The leader, mingling with the vulgar host, Is in the common mass of matter lost.