But It Is Not Reason That Governs

You Are My Peace, My Solace, My Salvation.

The World, Dear Agnes, Is A Strange Affair.

He Makes His Cook His Merit, And The World Visits His Dinners And Not Him.

I Might, By Chance, Write Something Just As Shoddy; But Then I Wouldn't Show It To Everybody.

All Extremes Does Perfect Reason Flee, And Wishes To Be Wise Quite Soberly.