O, How Wretched Is That Poor Man

A Man Loves The Meat In His Youth That He Cannot Endure In His Age.

A Very Ancient And Fish-like Smell.

Some Men Never Seem To Grow Old. Always Active In Thought, Always Ready To Adopt New Ideas, They Are Never Chargeable With Foggyism. Satisfied, Yet Ever Dissatisfied, Settled, Yet Ever Unsettled, They Always Enjoy The Best Of What Is, Are The First To Find The Best Of What Will Be.

He Is Deformed, Crooked, Old And Sere, Ill-faced, Worse Bodied, Shapeless Everywhere; Vicious, Ungentle, Foolish, Blunt, Unkind; Stigmatical In Making, Worse In Mind.

But Now Behold, In The Quick Forge And Working-house Of Thought, How London Doth Pour Out Her Citizens!