To Friendship Every Burden's Light.

Fill It Up. I Take As Large Draughts Of Liquor As I Did Of Love. I Hate A Flincher In Either.

No Author Ever Spar'd A Brother.

Cowards Are Cruel, But The Brave Love Mercy And Delight To Save.

Who Hath Not Heard The Rich Complain Of Surfeits, And Corporeal Pain? He Barr'd From Every Use Of Wealth, Envies The Ploughman's Strength And Health.

The Fly That Sips Treacle Is Lost In The Sweets.