Prayers Without Wine Are Perfectly Pointless.

Only By Being Suspended Aloft, By Dangling My Mind In The Heavens And Mingling My Rare Thought With The Ethereal Air, Could I Ever Achieve Strict Scientific Accuracy In My Survey Of The Vast Empyrean. Had I Pursued My Inquiries From Down There On The Ground, My Data Would Be Worthless. The Earth, You See, Pulls Down The Delicate Essence Of Thought To Its Own Gross Level.

No Man Is Really Honest; None Of Us Is Above The Influence Of Gain.

The Love Of Wine Is A Good Man's Failing.

Calonice: My Dear Lysistrata, Just What Is This Matter You've Summoned Us Women To Consider.what's Up? Something Big? Lysistrata: Very Big. Calonice: (interested) Is It Stout Too? Lysistrata: (smiling) Yes, Indeed -- Both Big And Stout. Calonice: What? And The Women Still Haven't Come? Lysistrata: It's Not What You Suppose; They'd Come Soon Enough For That.

Love Is Merely The Name For The Desire And Pursuit Of The Whole.