Festive Alcohol Sometimes Leads To An Excess

Poetry Is A Counterfeit Creation, And Makes Things That Are Not, As Though They Were

Enjoyment Always Has A Spoiling, Otherwise It Cannot Be So.

The Psalms Foretell What I, What Any Shall Do And Suffer And Say.

If Every Gnat That Flies Were An Archangel, All That Could But Tell Me That There Is A God; And The Poorest Worm That Creeps Tells Me That.

At Most, The Greatest Persons Are But Great Wens, And Excrescences; Men Of Wit And Delightful Conversation, But As Morals For Ornament, Except They Be So Incorporated Into The Body Of The World That They Contribute Something To The Sustentation Of The Whole.