A mighty national menace to sham
All talk and no cider
Condition my room is always in when you are not around
Deprived of the soothing consolation of swearing
Frankness is a jewel; only the young can afford it
Genius defies the laws of perspective
Hope deferred maketh the heart sick
I never greatly envied anybody but the dead
In the long analysis of the ages it is the truth that counts
Just about enough cats to go round
Moral bulwark reared against hypocrisy and superstition
The coveted estate of silence, time's only absolute gift
We went outside to keep from getting wet
What a pleasure there is in revenge!
When in doubt, tell the truth
When it is my turn, I don't