They carry back bright to the coiner the mintage of man, / The lads that will die in their glory and never be old.

The laws of God, the laws of man he may keep that will and can; not I: let God and man decree laws for themselves and not for me.

Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink for fellows whom it hurts to think.

The average man, if he meddles with criticism at all, is a conservative critic.

Now, of my threescore years and ten, / Twenty will not come again.

About the woodlands I will go / To see the cherry hung with snow.