Why have you come to me here, dear heart, with all these instructions? I promise you I will do everything just as you ask. But come closer. Let us give in to grief, however briefly, in each other's arms.

I'm like that guy who single-handedly built the rocket and flew to the moon. What was his name? Apollo Creed?

You never know when an old calendar might come in handy! Sure, it's not 1985 right now, but who knows what tomorrow will bring?

I detest the man who hides on thing in the depths of his heart and speaks forth another.

Men grow tired of sleep, love, singing and dancing sooner than of war.

Tell me, O Muse, of that ingenious hero who travelled far and wide after he had sacked the famous town of Troy.

You know, the one with all the well meaning rules that don't work out in real life, uh, Christianity.