My Thoughts Ran A Wool-gathering.

Sing Away Sorrow, Cast Away Care.

Translating From One Language To Another, Unless It Is From Greek And Latin, The Queens Of All Languages, Is Like Looking At Flemish Tapestries From The Wrong Side, For Although The Figures Are Visible, They Are Covered By Threads That Obscure Them, And Cannot Be Seen With The Smoothness And Color Of The Right Side.

'tis The Maddest Trick A Man Can Ever Play In His Whole Life, To Let His Breath Sneak Out Of His Body Without Any More Ado, And Without So Much As A Rap O'er The Pate, Or A Kick Of The Guts; To Go Out Like The Snuff Of A Farthing Candle, And Die Merely Of The Mulligrubs, Or The Sullens.

Truth Indeed Rather Alleviates Than Hurts, And Will Always Bear Up Against Falsehood, As Oil Does Above Water.

A Man Without Honor Is Worse Than Dead.