Too much restraint and we will have no more hilarity at funerals.

Being proud of being prudent is a strain of attitudent.

Lack of restraint will land you in a nunnery, too much and you’ll wake in a bordello.

Corral your impulses in public, loose them in private — mind the difference.

Everything we touch we mar; the wise admire the flowers from afar.

Hold your fork or hold your pork.

Give us liberty, and then we’ll all need to get some rest.

A restriction with good diction is nothing more than predilection.

Restraint hears the complaint; license endures the sound of the horrific crash.

For world peace imprison your tongue, bomb your biases, vaporize your revenge.

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