For The Army Is A School In

My Thoughts Ran A Wool-gathering.

'tis Said Of Love That It Sometimes Goes, Sometimes Flies; Runs With One, Walks Gravely With Another; Turns A Third Into Ice, And Sets A Fourth In A Flame: It Wounds One, Another It Kills: Like Lightning It Begins And Ends In The Same Moment: It Makes That Fort Yield At Night Which It Besieged But In The Morning; For There Is No Force Able To Resist It.

Never Look For Birds Of This Year In The Nests Of The Last.

I Know What's What, And Have Always Taken Care Of The Main Chance.

Poesy Is A Beauteous Damsel, Chaste, Honourable, Discreet, Witty, Retired, And Who Keeps Herself Within The Limits Of Propriety. She Is A Friend Of Solitude; Fountains Entertain Her, Meadows Console Her, Woods Free Her From Ennui, Flowers Delight Her; In Short, She Gives Pleasure And Instruction To All With Whom She Communicates.