You Dull Ass Will Not Mend His

Those, That With Haste Will Make A Mighty Fire, Begin It With Weak Straws.

There's An Old Saying That Applies To Me: You Can't Lose A Game If You Don't Play The Game. (act 1, Scene 4)

O, What A World Of Vile Ill-favored Faults, Looks Handsome In Three Hundred Pounds A Year!

To This Urn Let Those Repair That Are Either True Or Fair; For These Dead Birds Sigh A Prayer.

Affliction May One Day Smile Again; And Till Then, Sit Thee Down, Sorrow!.