We are quick to flare up, we races of men on the earth.

Like leaves on trees the race of man is found,- Now green in youth, now withering on the ground; Another race the following spring supplies: They fall successive, and successive rise.

Wine gives strength to weary men.

Who ne'er knew salt, or heard the billows roar.

There is no fouler fiend than a woman when her mind is bent to evil.

Guns aren't toys! They're for family protection, hunting dangerous or delicious animals, and keeping the King of England out of your face!

How vain, without the merit, is the name.