Some Falls The Means Are Happier To

He's Of The Colour Of The Nutmeg. And Of The Heat Of The Ginger.... He Is Pure Air And Fire; And The Dull Elements Of Earth And Water Never Appear In Him, But Only In Patient Stillness While His Rider Mounts Him; He Is Indeed A Horse, And All Other Jades You May Call Beasts.

Like A Barber's Chair That Fits All Buttocks.

I Am Too Old To Fawn Upon A Nurse, Too Far In Years To Be A Pupil Now.

Beggar That I Am, I Am Even Poor In Thanks

I Shall Show The Cinders Of My Spirits Through The Ashes Of My Chance.