“What inn is thisWhere for the nightPeculiar traveller comes?Who is the landlord?Where are the maids?Behold, what curious rooms!No ruddy fires on the hearth,No brimming tankards flow.Necromancer, landlord,Who are these below?”

“And still on a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees, When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, When the road is a gypsy's ribbon looping the purple moor, The highwayman comes riding-- Riding--riding-- The highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door. Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard, He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred, He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there But the landlord's black-eyed daughter-- Bess, the landlord's daughter-- Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.”

“this is my landlord, Krook”

“Life is a lease and God is the landlord.”

“You can't pay a landlord in dogma.”

“I know what a park bench is and the landlord's knock. There are only two things wrong with money: too much or too little.”