Clouds and darkness surround us, yet Heaven is just, and the day of triumph will surely come, when justice and truth will be vindicated.
If you keep making jokes like that, somebody is going to shoot you, father.
My evil genius Procrastination has whispered me to tarry 'til a more convenient season.
Others live on in a careless and lukewarm state - not appearing to fill Longfellow's measure: 'Into each life, some rain must fall.'
I don't think I'm allowed to talk about that. It is definitely not me. The role has been cast.