The slogan of Hell: Eat or be eaten. The slogan of Heaven: Eat and be eaten.

I'll love you till the ocean Is folded and hung up to dry And the seven stars go squawking Like geese about the sky.

Be subtle, various, ornamental, clever, And do not listen to those critics ever Whose crude provincial gullets crave in books Plain cooking made still plainer by plain cooks.

As I walked out one evening, Walking down Bristol Street, The crowds upon the pavement Were fields of harvest wheat. And down by the brimming river I heard a lover sing Under an arch of the railway: 'Love has no ending. 'I'll love you, dear, I'll love you Till China and Africa meet, And the river jumps over the mountain And the salmon sing in the street, 'I'll love you till the ocean Is folded and hung up to dry And the seven stars go squawking Like geese about the sky.

We are all here on earth to help others; what on earth the others are here for I don't know.

You owe it to all of us all get on with what you're good at.

I smell blood and an era of prominent madmen.