Time will pass and seasons will come and go.

You can't tell how good a man or a watermelon is 'til they get thumped.

I find this corpse guilty of carrying a concealed weapon and I fine it $40.

Spring with its wavin' green grass and heaps of sweet-smellin' flowers on every hill and in every dale.

And finally Winter, with its bitin', and whinin' wind, and all the land will be mantled with snow.

Hang 'em first, try 'em later.

Don't interfere with something that ain't bothering' you none.