They Never Lynch Children, Babies, No Matter

Dying For Dark — And The Darker The Worse. Strange.

Decidedly It Will Never Have Been Given To Me To Finish Anything, Except Perhaps Breathing. One Must Not Be Greedy.

That's What Hell Must Be Like, Small Chat To The Babbling Of Lethe About The Good Old Days When We Wished We Were Dead.

The Whisky Bears A Grudge Against The Decanter.

God Is A Witness That Cannot Be Sworn.