Marge, When I Join An Underground Cult

First You Don't Want Me To Get The Pony, Then You Want Me To Take It Back. Make Up Your Mind!

It Is Not Strength, But Art, Obtains The Prize, And To Be Swift Is Less Than To Be Wise.

We Battle On In Words, As Always, Mere Words, And What's The Cure? We Cannot Find A Thing.

The Single Best Augury Is To Fight For One's Country.

The Outcome Of The War Is In Our Hands; The Outcome Of Words Is In The Council.