To Be Good To The Vile Is

She Wanted, With Her Fickleness, To Make My Destruction Constant; I Want, By Trying To Destroy Myself, To Satisfy Her Desire.

There Is No Greater Folly In The World Than For A Man To Despair.

I Had Rather Munch A Crust Of Brown Bread And An Onion In A Corner, Without Any More Ado Or Ceremony, Than Feed Upon Turkey At Another Man?s Table, Where One Is Fain To Sit Mincing And Chewing His Meat An Hour Together, Drink Little, Be Always Wiping His Fingers And His Chops, And Never Dare To Cough Nor Sneeze, Though He Has Never So Much A Mind To It, Nor Do A Many Things Which A Body May Do Freely By One?s Self.

I Must Speak The Truth, And Nothing But The Truth.

Mere Flimflam Stories, And Nothing But Shams And Lies.